


NEW MOON: A Post-War Klance Fanfiction

by catastrophic_zelda



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adding to the Canon, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Post-Voltron: Legendary Defender, Post-War, Slow Burn, Voltron, hey I actually liked season 8, it's one in the morning on a school night lol, klance, vld continuation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophic_zelda/pseuds/catastrophic_zelda
Summary: 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻 ☾𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯1. the first lunar phase, where the moon and sun have the same ecliptic longitude2. as a new moon represents the start of a new lunar cycle, it symbolizes new beginnings and is a cause for reflections on the past; i.e. a blank sheet of paper, an empty canvas, and a star-lit sky______________________the war is over.the universe has changed.and it's moving faster than lance can run.
Relationships: Acxa/Veronica (Voltron), Curtis/Shiro (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Matt Holt/N-7, Pidge/Computers
Kudos: 7





	1. the end is the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one era ends; a new one begins. the paladins relish in the quiet warmth of the aftermath of shiro's wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what was supposed to be a brief introduction turned into a full-on rant, so feel free to completely ignore this. just know that the story takes place after season 8 and is built entirely off of the canon plot. 
> 
> hey! thanks for checking out this story. before I begin, it takes place after the events of season eight, meaning that all the characters that are dead in the show are dead in this story! the premise of this story is based off the canon details given to us by vld. rather than being a continuation of the narrative as a whole, (like an entire new plot and villains) I chose to primarily focus on Lance. although there will be plenty of scenes featuring the other paladins, they are not the focal point of this story, if you get what I’m saying :) another important note is that I don’t despise season 8! so please try to refrain from any negativity! in fact I think that, while not perfect, it is an awesome season and gave us many moments to love and cherish. yes, the death of allura was really sad, but I feel like in some ways, it was fitting. but maybe that’s just me because I like sad endings :). in fact, although I am a klance shipper, I don’t think it would actually make sense until after the events of season 8, when everyone finally got to rest and mature. I also think that allurance was sweet too, but each ship belongs at a different time. before lance was able to realize his feelings for keith, I think he had to first understand himself better. and even though it is sad, he was able to do that after the death of allura. and, Lance's end actually has a lot more depth than you think. "spreading allura's message" does not entitle him to be a farmer forever. in fact, jeremy actually said that he thinks Allura gave Lance Altean marks as a reminder to move on; to accept what happened and live with it. if you remember, lance was farming juniberries: beautiful, growing flowers. the flowers are a gentle reminder to move on, to grow. just like the juniberries, lance will grow too. but for now, why shouldn’t he chill out with his family and favorite cow while his wounds are still healing? I have no doubt though, that Lance won’t remain a farmer forever.  
> so yeah! his finale is actually nice if you look deeper :)
> 
> ________________________________

june 10th  
_____

Glasses clinked and laughter bounced around in the warm summer air. The grass was soft and fresh, a remarkable sign that planet earth was healing from its vicious attacks only a year ago. Honerva and the Galra may have dissipated, but the damage was astronomical. Nevertheless, happiness was found in even the darkest of times, and Shiro’s wedding tonight was an excellent demonstration of that. For all that was lost, love and hope remained. If Shiro, the former paladin, painfully young war veteran and pilot of the IGF-Atlas could settle down and start a new life with loved ones then there was no doubt that everyone else could. Or at least, that’s what Lance told himself every night before sinking into a spasmodic and fitful night of sleep, haunted by the same recurring dream of Allura drifting away into an empty void of bright nothingness.

But now was no time for moping. It had been a wonderful afternoon. Lance had never seen Shiro so happy and bright, save the time when he won the arm-wrestling competition. The wedding was small: only the Paladins and their families, Coran and Romelle, a few members of the Blade of Marmora, the MFE pilots, and other assorted staff at the Galaxy Garrison had attended. But then again, only a year had passed since the attacks on Earth, and besides, everyone knew each other, which made it all the more merry. Everyone’s eyes, even Keith’s, were sparkling with tears of happiness. Coran’s eyes were wet the entire time, but that may have been a result of Lance’s lavish juniberry decorating, for his tears were accompanied by frequent sneezes.

And yet, night was quickly approaching and the hum of cicadas were distinct against friendly chatter. All of the guests, Curtis, and Shiro had dispersed long ago, but since Hunk had provided the (free) food for the wedding, he, accompanied by Keith, the Holt family, and Lance, volunteered to be the unofficial clean-up crew. Shiro and Curtis had decided on having their wedding be outside in the rolling, golden fields behind the Garrison, so there were several tables, three large tents, dozens of chairs, and decorations, not to mention the sumptuous amount of food that Hunk and his restaurant had provided, to clean up. Although it was mostly put away, the dishes from an opulent wedding dinner remained.

“Hunk, how much more stuff 𝘪𝘴 there?” Matthew Holt groaned, dragging a large metal platter across the lawn.

“We’re actually just about done!” Hunk said, carrying a similar-looking pan with relative ease. “Just a few more of these guys and then we’re good to go. Romelle and Shay took care of the leftover food, which we’ll send to Shiro tomorrow.”

“Good,” panted Matt, “cause my arms are dead.”

“If you stuck to the initial workout plan like we agreed on, your arms would be much stronger!” Katie Holt, most often referred to as Pidge, called from behind Hunk’s food truck, where she was patching up the automatic ketchup dispenser. It had broken earlier when Acxa launched a fried potato at Veronica, missed, and hit the truck instead.

“I only stopped ‘cause they were too 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 for me,” Matt hollered, struggling to lift the platter into its proper place on the inside of the vehicle. “Besides,” he added, “exercising is boring. Why waste your time lifting pieces of metal when you can be creating the next generation of molecular-level data storage inside of the MFE engine system?”

“I bet it would be less ‘ _boring_ ' if N-7 showed up,” Pidge teased, rolling her eyes.

“Ohh, snap!” Hunk laughed. “Matt, if you help Keith with that last vase, I’ll be sure to extend her break on Saturdays.”

“I don’t need help,” Keith said brusquely, shoving Matt aside and loading the final vase into the van. “Did we even use this thing at the wedding?”

“Classic Keith,” Lance commented, dumping a haphazard pile of forks into a large bowl in the back of the van. “And yes, I put flowers in that vase.”

“Whoa, whoa, Lance, careful there!” Hunk cried, scooping up all the forks and cradling them in his arms. “These are made from a special metal found deep below the surface of Senfama. They’re practically indestructible but prone to scratches! These are my best forks!”

“How can something ‘practically indestructible’ be ‘prone to scratches?’” Keith asked, eyebrow raised.

“Man, I don’t know!” Hunk said, waving his arms. “That’s just what the guy at the Space Mall told me! And I happen to think that he is a very trustworthy source!”

“All the tables, tents, chairs, and now dishes are put away. Are we finally done?” Matt asked, exhausted. He was laying on the ground, staring at the sky with his hands behind his head. Lance took one look at Matt and rushed to imitate his exact position. Despite their rocky beginning, Lance and Matt had grown to become great friends.

“Yup. Keith got the last of it,” Hunk replied, carefully tucking the precious forks into their proper bag. He then sat down next to Matt on the grass and followed Matt’s gaze to the stars.

“And I just finished repairing your ketchup dispenser,” Pidge announced, flopping down next to Hunk. “Tell Acxa to stop flinging potatoes or next time she’ll have to fix it.”

“Will do.”

“The moon is bright tonight,” Keith observed, taking a seat on the grass with the others. “And I don’t see any incoming ships. It’s a clear night.”

“It’s pretty,” Hunk sighed. “Still can’t believe we actually went up there.”

“We were floating in space for an entire year!” Lance said incredulously. “How are you still processing that?”

“I’m still processing a lot of things,” Hunk said, rubbing his eyes.

“Me too,” Keith agreed in a low voice. “So much has changed.”

“But I think we’ve changed the most.”

For a moment, no one spoke. They all lay on the summer grass, basking in the glow of the distant specks of glimmering light, each lost in their own thoughts. Memories, glimpses of the past, and fragmented moments stuck in time flooded Lance’s head. Meeting Pidge on the Garrison rooftop, forming Voltron for the first time, the mermaids, Lotor, and a familiar slender face, soft white hair tied in a knot on her head, and glowing blue eyes. Lance's chest tightened.

𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘢.

She haunted his thoughts and dreams yet, every pleasant memory of her had vanished into his consciousness, replaced only by a transfixing vision of her succinct farewell and a soft kiss. Lance tried to remember the happy times, the memories of space-goo fights, the Blue Lion, the time she came for dinner, but those all felt like 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 ago. And they were all so insignificant now. He had dedicated his entire life to her, even after she died, and yet he felt no connection. How many times he had stayed up into the darkest hours of the night and early morning, 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 to feel something, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, he didn’t know.

Sometimes, while holding a juniberry flower, her familiar scent would be so powerful that he could only stand there, mind drifting to far-off alternate realities where both Allura and himself would be alive and well, speechless, while his Altean marks pulsed with a strange light.

Now that he knew how it felt, he did not blame Honerva for probing through the galaxies, searching for her loved ones. It was during these dark, often moon-lit times that he found himself longing to blast off into the stars where maybe, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦, he would have a chance of finding her. But he knew that his fear of traveling in space, which was a result of witnessing Allura's galactic death, would keep him grounded.

She was gone and there was nothing he could do. 

There was no point in denying it.

But there _was_ value in deferring it.

So that’s what Lance did. He shoved the inevitable heartache aside and let it out in the form of dry sobs at night, or in small ways, like blank, thousand-mile stares when he thought no one was looking. Excessive self-exclusion. Foolish fantasies. Desperate dreams. There was no reason to bother his friends with his pitiful sorrows when they were perfectly content living their own, successful lives. 

And most of the time too, he was okay. Life was pretty much normal, save for occasional flashbacks and frequent nightmares. It was only when he couldn't hold back anymore that things got bad.

“Lance, are you all right?” a voice from far, far away asked hesitantly. “Lance? … Can you hear me?”

Lance blinked, and the world slowly came back into focus again. Pidge was crouched next to him, peering into his face while prodding his arm with a long, tube-like contraption that emitted an odd beeping noise.

“Oh, he’s back,” Hunk announced. “You got lucky. Pidge was about to stab you with her new invention.”

“It would have been a 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬, Hunk,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes. “Lance would have been too zonked out to tell, anyway. It was weird. He just kind of froze for a minute.” She frowned, clearly puzzled by Lance’s state.

“Is he okay, Pidge?” Keith asked, rather aggressively.

“I’m fine! I just drifted off for a second. It’s been a big day,” he lied, heart still thudding.

“Really? Do you normally 𝘤𝘳𝘺 when you 'zone out?'” asked Matt skeptically.

“I was not 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨,” Lance objected, hastily wiping the tears off his cheeks.

“You were thinking about Allura, weren’t you?” Keith said quietly.

“I-” Lance started. His mouth was too dry to finish the sentence.

“Your Altean marks are glowing,” Pidge observed. “And your eyes were all glazed over. Clever hypothesis, Keith. That can often happen when someone is reminiscing over the past, or they’re trapped in a memory. Cognitive wandering, most commonly known as daydreaming, is typical after a person has been through a series of traumatic events, however, it’s can also simply just be a direct result of boredom or-”

“Leave him alone, Pidge,” Keith said, cutting off Pidge mid-sentence. “He doesn’t need your fancy science now.”

Pidge opened her mouth to argue but closed it when Hunk nudged her, a sign to shut up. It was quiet again. Lance pushed himself up into a sitting position, where he covered his face with his hands. Hunk put an arm around his friend, and said, rather uncomfortably. “Hey, it’s okay. We all miss her.” Only once before had Lance expressed his anguish so openly, and that was when they all thought the world was ending, so naturally, no one knew what to do. Even in the direst of situations, Lance had always managed to air on the side of humor and happiness. He was always a constant source of comedic relief and tended to poke fun at situations that could take all their lives in an instant. To see him tormented by events that happened a year ago was unnerving, even to his closest friends who had all nearly died together.

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰, Lance wanted to add. 𝘕𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰. He reached up with shaky fingers to touch the luminous Altean markings on his cheekbones, a constant reminder of his failure to protect her.

“Lance, I-” Keith started, looking down. He swallowed, then said, “Look, I know that you had a much… different relationship with Allura than any of us did. But we all went through the same thing you did, and we’re the only ones who did. And… if you ever, I don’t know, want to talk about… your 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, you can with us.”

“...thanks. All of you,” Lance said quietly. And he really did mean it. He was touched by Keith’s uncharacteristically blunt display of kindness and support. All of his friends- no, 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺, meant the world to him. He just wished that he didn’t have to ruin the mood. He hated being weak. Especially on Shiro’s wedding day: a time that was meant for joy and celebration. But Lance couldn’t help but selfishly wish that this day could have belonged to him and Allura. Perhaps that was why today was especially painful.

“Lance, I’m sorry for trying to take your blood sample earlier,” Pidge blurted out. Matt chuckled from behind her.

“It’s no problem,” Lance replied with a hoarse voice. “Besides,” he added, smiling weakly. “You were about to take the best blood in the game. My blood could probably power an MFE, it’s got that much power in it.”

“The old Lance has returned!” Matt announced, shoving Lance’s arm into the air, as Pidge grinned. The science behind his “logic” was totally nonsensical, but she didn’t bother to correct him.

“Stupid and arrogant as always,” Keith added, but he was smiling.

After that, the tension vaporized almost instantly, and they returned to idle chatter. Their topics of conversation ranged from mermaids and Matt’s new haircut ("𝘐’𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯! 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵.” “𝘏𝘌𝘠!") to the speculation of romance involving Axca and Veronica (which was almost instantly denied by both Keith and Lance). Even after all that had happened, the four friends, plus Matt, remained close as ever. And even though only a few minutes had passed since his flashback, Lance was feeling lighter already.

“Man, I’m so happy for Shiro,” Hunk sighed. “He deserves this more than anyone.”

“Me too,” Keith agreed.

“I’m glad everyone is back here, too,” Hunk said, smiling at the stars. “I missed all of you!”

“Hunk, we saw each other yesterday afternoon for lunch. It was your idea to get together each Saturday, remember? We all live within twenty minutes of each other,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes.

“Keith is gone a lot, though,” Matt broke in. “So he doesn’t count.”

“Yes, I count!” Keith argued. “I live at the Garrison! I’m gone 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, saving lives and all that, but I come back home! A lot!”

“Yeah, but if anyone walked into your dorm they’d think no one lived there,” Lance added. “The walls are empty and your stuff is shoved away in the closet! You didn’t even hang up the black lion poster Pidge and I got for you for your birthday!”  
“That’s because it’s eight feet tall,” Keith reminded him, dryly.

“Now I wish Shiro was here,” Hunk said sadly. “He would have loved our heart-to-heart conversations.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Matt said airily. “He’s probably very busy now with Curtis.”

“Matt!!” Hunk cried, elbowing him, while Pidge and Lance laughed.

“𝘝𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘺 busy,” Matt added.

“Curtis, you’re really activating my particle barrier right now,” Pidge said in a mockingly deep tone, imitating Shiro’s commanding voice before collapsing into a fit of cackles.

“Gross,” Keith said with a snort.

“Pidge has a point,” Matt agreed. “Let’s hope Honerva managed to clone every part of Shiro perfectly or else Curtis is in for quite a surprise.”

“MATTEW HOLT!” hollered Hunk. “Enough with your unchaste talk! Be silent and observe the stars!”

“I’ll silence 𝘺𝘰𝘶 if you don’t stop talking like Coran!” Matt retorted loudly, elbowing Hunk in the ribs.

“Aw, c'mon, Coran has a way with words!"

“And Shiro isn’t 𝘧𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘺,” Keith said with an impish smile on his face. “He’s twenty-six. He won’t have a stroke or anything. Unless Curtis does something 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 special.”

Pidge and Matt wheezed with unconstrained laughter, but Lance looked aghast. “Keith?! Wh-what? I never knew you had that side to you! Or that you could actually joke!”

“Oh man, Shiro would be 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 if he heard our conversation,” Pidge said, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sports jacket. She took a deep breath, dropped her voice down several octaves, and boomed, “Paladins of Voltron! This topic is inappropriate for times like this! Get to your lions and stop messing around!”

“Ha! Good one, Pidge!” Hunk said, laughing, completely abandoning his attempt to abolish the conversation. He too put on a stern face and ran a hand through his hair in a struggle to replicate Shiro’s hair floof. “My name is Takashi Shirogane. Everybody loves me. Laser guns go 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮, 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮, 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮. I can bench-press ten fully-grown adults and I’m super perfect,” he said in a deep voice; an excruciating attempt to imitate the captain of the IGF-Atlas.

“Laser guns do not go, ‘𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮, 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮, 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮,’” Lance scoffed. “They go, ‘𝘱𝘰𝘸! 𝘱𝘰𝘸! 𝘱𝘰𝘸!’”

“No, they don’t!” Matt objected with a frown. He put his hands together, cocked an imaginary gun, and said, “Laser guns go like, ‘waaaaaAAAH-PEW! waaaaAAAAH-PEW! PEW! PEW!”

“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?”

“No way!”

“That sounds like Coran sneezing!”

“And anyway, a more accurate impression would be, ‘𝘣𝘢-𝘊𝘏𝘜! 𝘣𝘢-𝘊𝘏𝘜! 𝘣𝘢-𝘊𝘏𝘜!”

“Not this again,” Keith groaned.

“Oh yeah, Keith? What do 𝘺𝘰𝘶 think laser guns sound like?” Pidge asked unbelievingly.

“Yeah Keith, what 𝘥𝘰 they sound like?”

Keith scowled, then stuck out his pointer fingers, rendering the shapes of two small guns. “Pew. Pew. Pew. Pew. Pew.”

Everyone’s eyes widened as they stared at Keith in shock. “What?” he demanded. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“He did it,” Matt said, voice full of awe. “That sounds exactly like a real laser gun that the Galra used.”

“Impressive,” Pidge observed, fascinated. “You managed to replicate the sound frequency almost perfectly! How did you do it?”

“Holy quiznak,” Lance said, eyes still round. “I didn’t expect 𝘺𝘰𝘶 to do it so well!”

“Amazing, Keith!” Hunk applauded. “You 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 to show Shiro tomorrow! He’ll be blown away.”

“You guys are crazy,” Keith said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That sounded nothing like a laser gun.”

“Yes, it did!” Pidge insisted. “You have 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵!”

“It must be his inner Galra,” Hunk concluded. “He’s always surprising us.”

“You know Keith,” Lance said sarcastically. “Always full of pleasant surprises.”

“Shut up, you guys,” Keith said. “Very funny.” But even he could not repress a smile.

.・。.・゜✭・*✧.・✫・٭🟅゜・。.

And by that point, the moon was high in the sky and all the stars were out. Their conversations slowly came to a close. One by one, the yawning paladins and Matt left to their respective homes, bidding farewell and exchanging hugs. And from then until their weekly shared Saturday lunch (which was Hunk’s idea, even though he was absent from many of them), each went on with their own lives. Pidge and Matt returned to the Garrison where they continued their work of reconstructing ships and training new space pilots, assisted by Shiro and now Curtis. Keith went back to his dorm in the Garrison and stayed until the following day, and then he’d depart for two weeks on a rescue mission with the Blade of Marmora. Hunk carefully drove the food truck back to his restaurant’s headquarters, where he was able to manage most of his intergalactic locations and serve unique dishes from different planets. Occasionally he left to visit and check in with the other locations scattered throughout the universe, but remained on Earth for the most part because “he didn’t like traveling alone.”

Everyone had a job; a contribution to the greater good, except for Lance. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he drove back to his family’s home. Sure, he had brought the juniberry back from extinction (with the help of Colleen Holt, of course) but apart from that, he had done very little. Lance kept telling himself that he just needed some time to recover from what happened, but it had been a year and 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴?

The truth was, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t heal.

At least, not yet.

You see, Lance’s greatest fear was forgetting Allura.

He was terrified that if he abandoned the juniberry farm to pursue a career elsewhere, his memories of her would slowly dissolve. Allura had sacrificed herself for the sake of the universe. And there was no way that Lance would ever, ever allow himself to forget that. Perhaps that was why he would spontaneously drift off into trance-like phases where his entire being was consumed by thoughts and memories of Allura.

He tried other things, too, like helping out Hunk at the restaurant, but he overcooked the potatoes which nearly gave Hunk an anxiety attack. And another time Lance spent a day with the Holt family, Curtis, and Shiro, and not only did he feel incredibly stupid, but also more like a hindrance than a help. And once, when he was 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 desperate, he considered asking Keith if he could tag along on one of his missions with the Blade. He shut down that idea immediately after though, remembering it was Galra only, and besides, Keith would probably think he was an annoying waste of space, anyway.

So, Lance spent his time with family on the farm, planting row after row of elegant juniberries, tending to Kaltenecker, and dreaming up meticulous alternate realities where he and Allura had their own lives together. And although Lance was content on the farm (save for his occasional flashbacks and nightmares), he still felt like there was something missing. He missed being in space, missed helping others. He missed having a purpose, a definite place in the universe. He missed being a Paladin and he missed space goo fights and he missed piloting the red lion and he missed playing 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 & 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘢 and he missed the IGF-Atlas and he missed his friends but most of all he missed Allura. He missed her so badly that it could be compared to a perpetual aching. 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

Lance didn’t want to say that he had changed. He didn’t believe that people could 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 undergo a total transformation: you are who you are and you do the best with what you got.

Yeah, that was until 𝘩𝘦 changed.

Pidge figured that people change for one of two reasons: either their minds had been opened, or their hearts had been broken. And after she solved some relatively simple equations, she was able to reach a conclusion. One that she didn’t like, but was accurate nonetheless.  
Lance was hurting.

And as a friend, her sworn duty was to help him out in any way possible. So when the people of Xena sent a distress message, Pidge knew exactly what to do.

Because from that point on, it would just be _science_.


	2. growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a simple request provokes a transformative decision. and an unexpected twist nearly derails everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if the Spanish sucks or doesn’t make any sense. I’m only in my second year of Spanish and I’m learning it traditionally, so I’m sorry if I missed anything that’s unique to Cuba!

october 9th  
____

“Lance! ¡𝘔𝘪𝘫𝘰! Get over here, now!”

“Yes, Mama?”

“Was this you? Did you leave your breakfast out on the table?”

“No! Actually I don’t know. Probably. Yeah, that’s my plate.”

“And what did I tell you twice about cleaning up after yourself? We have very special guests coming today! ¡𝘋𝘦𝘣𝘦𝘳í𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘨ü𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘢!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance said, hastening to pick up his plate. “And they’re not 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭. It’s just Pidge. And she’s only coming here to pick me up.”

“It does not matter! Guests are still guests and the table has to be nice! Hurry, and change your shirt, too, it’s filthy,” Lance’s mother added, prodding his back with a long wooden spoon.

“Ouch! Okay, okay, I’ll change my shirt,” he said, tossing his plate in the sink and running upstairs to his room. He shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief. He loved all his family dearly but, man, that woman could drive him crazy. Lance tore off his shirt (“It’s not even 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 dirty!” he said to himself, shaking his head.) and dug through his dresser. He pulled one out at random and, without even looking, threw it over his head. He yanked on a pair of red lion socks that Hunk had bought for him at the Space Mall a month ago and started to walk out the door, but stopped. From the corner of his eye, he spotted his own reflection and realized that he had put on his favorite blue and white shirt from two years ago that he had forgotten about. He turned around and stood in front of his mirror as a sad smile pushed its way into his face. Lance’s shirt was white with blue sleeves: the very same one that he wore on the night that changed his life. He found the blue lion, “rescued” Shiro, and met Allura and Coran in this shirt. It was a bit too small now and still smelled like the odd, foamy laundry detergent that they had found on the Castle of Lions, but it was his.

“¡𝘔𝘪𝘫𝘰! Your friend is here!” Lance’s mother called. “Come down here and be a good host!”

Lance took one last glance at his shirt in the mirror, then ran down the stairs, taking two at a time. “Hey guys! Hey Pidge!” he said, hurrying to the front door.

“Top of the mornin’ to ya, Lance,” Pidge said, in her usual manner. Her drone, Rover, hovered slightly above her shoulder and emitted pleasant whistling sounds.

“Good morning, Lance McClain!” called Matt, popping out from behind Pidge. “How is the day treating you so far?”

“Oh hey, Matt! Didn’t know you were coming,” Lance said, grinning.

“Well, initially, he was going to stay home, but when he found out I was picking you up, he insisted on accompanying me. His motive for doing so presumably has to do something with your mother’s cooking,” Pidge informed him.

“Hey, Lance wanna hear a joke? I made it up myself at two in the morning yesterday.”

“Oh no, Lance, say no, he’s told it to me about seventy times already and it’s horrible,” Pidge warned.

“Too bad!” Matt said, before Lance could respond. “Why did Kaltenecker go to space?”

“Uh… why?”

“To visit the 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘬𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺!” Matt cried, already laughing at his own joke.

“That… was the worst joke I’ve heard in ten decaphobes and I spent an entire one in space with Pidge and Hunk.”

“Katie! Matt! ¡𝘉𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘴!” Lance’s mother cried, pulling the Holt siblings tightly into her arms.

“Thanks, Mrs. McClain!” Matt said, grinning. “It’s good to see you!”

“How are you?” Pidge asked.

“Very well my dears, very well! Would you like anything to eat?”

“You, uh, wouldn’t happen to have any of those delicious <em>buñuelos</em>, would you?” Matt asked, grinning.

“Ah yes, my dear! Let me go get them,” she said happily, grabbing a plate from the table. “Here,” she said, shoving it into Matt’s arms. “I made twenty-nine, but Lance eight seven this morning so you get twenty-two!”

“Wow!” Matt said, eyes wide. He popped one in his mouth and said, “Thanks so much! These are amazing!”

“My pleasure,” she replied, beaming. “So what are you three up to today?”

“I have no idea,” Lance said, shrugging. “Pidge just told me to be up and ready by eleven-thirty sharp.”

“We have some brief… 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 to go over back at the Garrison,” Pidge told her. “We might need Lance’s help with something, too.”

“All right, well you have fun and don’t go to space without telling me first!” Lance’s mother said, patting his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, not planning on it,” Lance promised. “See you later!”

And with that, the trio walked back to Matt’s borrowed Garrison car, stopped only briefly by Nadia, who tucked a juniberry behind Pidge’s ear. As soon as they piled into the vehicle, Matt began stuffing his face with the treats Lance’s mother made while Pidge took the driver’s seat.

“Are you… sure that’s a good idea?” Lance asked, hesitantly taking shotgun. “I’ve never seen Pidge drive before.”

“Oh yeah itsf horrible,” Matt said, mouth so full of food that his speech was barely comprehensible. “But she doefn’t truft me to drive fo we’re shtuck wif her.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Pidge said slyly. She furrowed her eyebrows and stamped on the pedal, launching the car into a vigorous acceleration.

Despite Lance’s predictions, Pidge turned out to be a mildly decent driver, although the beginning was quite terrifying. Although, that may have been due to the fact that the car vehicle was equipped with auto-pilot technologies that could alter the speed if it fluctuated too much. After about ten minutes of semi-smooth riding, they reached the Garrison and piled out, Matt swiping out any remaining crumbs behind him.

“So, what is it exactly that you want from me?” Lance asked as they walked through the hallways of the Garrison. “And where are we going?”

“We are headed to the courtyard and we are going to collect all of your blood and use it to power the next generation of MFE fighter jets,” Pidge said in such a serious voice that Lance couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

“Wh-what?”

“You said, way back after Shiro’s wedding, that your blood had ‘so much power in it that it could power a fleet of MFE jets,’” Pidge said, leading him down a long hall. She pushed open a door on the right, which opened to a spacious courtyard. “C’mon, let’s go this way.”

“I never remember saying that!” Lance protested. “That definitely never happened and you’re totally making that up.”

“Of course I am! Well, you 𝘥𝘪𝘥 say that, but one cannot use blood alone as a power source. You could extract the quintessence from it, but you would have to perform a series of complex algorithms and removal procedures using technologies that don’t even exist yet in this reality,” Pidge told him, as nonchalantly as if chatting about the weather.

“Right, I knew that. Well, you could test some of your ‘complex algorithms and blood removal procedures’ on Keith if you wanted to, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Lance said sarcastically.

“Very amusing,” Pidge said, although she was smiling. “But that’s not what you’re here for. Sit there,” she instructed, gesturing to a wooden picnic table. Lance obliged, and Rover buzzed happily.

“So if you’re not taking all my blood away, what do you need me for?” Lance asked.

“Well,” Pidge began, looking rather awkward for a change. “We, uh, kind of require your assistance.”

“Okay,” Lance said, raising an eyebrow. “What for?”

“A very unique, crucial mission that could save hundreds of lives,” Pidge said, while Rover buzzed around their heads.

“Oh no,” Lance groaned. “You’re going to make me do a charity run again, aren’t you?”

“No, and that was Shiro, not me. This mission is different… and I don’t know that you’ll like it,” Pidge added with uncertainty.

“Tell me!”

“Allow me to explain the details first-”

“No, tell me what it is!”

“I think it’s best if I-”

“PIDGE TELL ME WHAT IT IS!”

“FINE!” Pidge shouted. She looked down, then back up to Lance again, took a deep breath. “Lance, we need you to go to space.”

Lance’s eyes widened, but he made no sound.

“I know that since… um, 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳, you’ve been hesitant to travel intergalactically. And none of us blame you. But there isn’t another person that can do this. We need an experienced pilot who is a skilled warrior, but also someone who can work well with others,” Pidge explained.

“I… I can’t,” Lance said quietly. “You know I can’t.”

“Yes, you can! You were in space for an entire year with no problem. Besides, the trip is only a week long. Lives are at stake, Lance!”

“What happened anyway?” Lance asked, avoiding eye contact with Pidge.

“A large gas moon in the Altean system, also known as Xena, was recently bombarded with attacks from rogue space pirates. But because the moon's ecosystem is extremely fragile, we need to deliver a one-of-a-kind power generator from the Olkari that will repower the broken stabilizer. While the people recover and rebuild from the attacks, this stabilizer will provide a steady anti-carbon pulse throughout the damaged moon that will restore Xena's delicate balance.”

Lance sighed. “Can’t you use James- James Griffin? Or what about Curtis? Or even Shiro? Or both of them? They’d all make better choices than I am.”

“James is currently on an assignment near Taujeer, to help re-establish the local population. Both Curtis and Shiro have requested to remain on Earth for various reasons,” Pidge informed him. “Besides, we’ll make a little reunion out of it! Matt, Coran, and even Keith are all coming with us.”

“If you think Keith coming will make me want to go, you’ve got another thing coming,” Lance muttered.

“Lance, please,” she begged, standing up, while Rover tweeted in agreement. “I know you haven’t been off of Earth in a while but this will be good for you! A change of setting is beneficial to a weary cognitive state! Besides, you loved being in space a year ago. You were the sharp-shooter, remember? You are the sharpshooter!”

Lance flinched at that childish term he used to cherish. His brow furrowed. Didn’t she understand? Didn’t Pidge understand that more than 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, he wanted to return to space and become who he was before? And yet, he knew he never could. He had lost too much out there. There was no chance he was ever going back. At home, he 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 had what he always wanted: stability. He convinced himself that he was happy. To return to space was too risky, too dangerous, and too frightening. 

“Why don’t you want to come?” demanded Pidge. “There is nothing to be scared of! We’re doing what we always used to! Every day! You would have done this a year ago without any hesitation! So why are you afraid now?”

“Because I’m not the person I 𝘸𝘢𝘴 a year ago!” he hollered, voice cracking. Pidge cringed as she realized the full impact of her words. She opened her mouth, likely to apologize, but was cut off by Lance.

“I’m not going. Something bad is going to happen out there, I know it. I can’t leave my farm, either,” he said, and stormed off in the other direction. What he 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 to say, was, “𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵.”

Pidge sighed, and said, “Rover, why am I always so bad at being sympathetic? First to Keith and now this.” She laid her head down on the picnic table and scowled.

Meanwhile, Lance ran down the tiled steps of the Garrison courtyard and out into the field, trying not to let the tears escape his eyes. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, he thought to himself angrily. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯. He knew that going on this mission was important, but he just couldn’t risk it.

There was no way he’d ever venture out into space again.

Not after what happened a year ago.

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘢.

He sat down on the ground, grass tickling his arms, as he tried not to fall victim to his inevitable, painful flashback, but it was too late. Lance wasn’t strong enough to fend off the harrowing recollections: not anymore.

“𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶,” 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵. 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵-𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘣, 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. “𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘺!” 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴. “𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥!” 𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨- 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵- 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘢’𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦- 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭-

“Lance!” a voice cried, shaking him by the shoulders. “Lance, wake up!”

Slowly, he opened his burning eyes, and was met with a blurred face of someone familiar. He took a deep, shaky breath, and squinted at the figure. Glasses, short brown hair, bossy older sister voice: 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢.

“Lance! Snap out of it!” Veronica said, half begging, half commanding.

“V-Veronica?” Lance mumbled, wiping his face.

“Lance! You’re awake,” she said, clearly relieved.

“D-did I pass out?” he asked in an unsteady voice.

“Well, sort of,” Veronica said uncomfortably. “You were saying… things, and kind of shaking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” she said, looking at her brother with a concerned look on her face. “Are you all right?”

Lance took another deep breath before answering, “Yeah. I guess.”

“Pidge told me you… got 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵 and ran off when she tried to tell you about the mission. She says she’s sorry for pushing you,” Veronica told him.

“It’s not her fault,” Lance said dully, tucking his knees to his chest and burying his chin in his arms.

Veronica frowned. “No, it's not, but it’s not yours either.” She shot a sideways glance at him and asked in a softer voice, “Wanna talk about it? You do love to talk.”

Lance sighed. “I don’t really know. I mean, I want to help, but I… I…” he broke off, looking down. “I can’t.”

“Why not? Pidge said it’s only a week!”

“I can’t… leave,” he said, offering quite an insufficient answer.

“Why?”

“Because I’m comfortable here. And I don’t want to go blasting off to space.”

“Why?”

“Because I just don’t want to!”

“Why, though?”

“Because- because I’m scared!” he blurted out, regretting it immediately. Veronica would surely make fun of him for being frightened of 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦. But to his surprise, she looked saddened by his confession. She sighed, and said, “Lance, I know that I will never understand what happened out there last year. I know that I wasn’t up there with you and the other paladins, but I was on the Atlas, too, and I was there the whole time. Iverson, Curtis, Sam and I were there. And I’m not saying you have to tell me everything, but know that I’m up for talking.”

“Thank you,” he replied quietly, wiping his face. Veronica’s consolation reminded him of back in June, when Keith had said something similar. He really 𝘸𝘢𝘴 lucky: to have so many people that cared and wanted the best for him. 𝘐𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯.

Veronica punched him lightly on the shoulder. “It’s what I’m here for. But tell me more about this mission, first.”

“Well, Pidge says that she needs my help to deliver supplies to a moon in the Altean system. Apparently, Keith, Matt, and Coran are all going too. I don’t really understand why she needs my help, but she does,” Lance told her.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Isn’t 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 obvious?”

“It's obvious as to why they want you to be there!”

“Uh, no, it’s not because like I said before, I have no idea why she wants me to come.”

“It’s because they 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 you, Lance! You’re funny and charismatic and stupid and people like that need to get out! Come on!” Veronica cried. “Sometimes I wonder how 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 penetrates that thick skull of yours. You never pick up even the most obvious of hints!”

“Are you done insulting me now?”

“For now. But did you hear what I said before that?”

“Yeah.”

“And don’t you think spending time with your best friends is worth a little motion sickness?”

Lanced stared at his shoes. “It’s… complicated.”

If truth be told, he would love to go on a trip with his friends. A little vacation and saving lives would be the perfect combination for a former paladin of Voltron. Except for his unmanageable fits of PTSD, irrational fears of losing loved ones in space again, leaving Allura and his farm behind, and the very idea of spending an entire week trapped in a tiny ship with Keith, he was on board for this mission. Although, he did have to remind himself that he spent an entire year on a spaceship with Keith, so perhaps that part would be okay. And if anything, he owed them time and maybe even a few bad jokes. Pidge, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Coran, Matt- they were always there for him. Yet Lance was never there for them. Veronica’s words echoed in his head: “𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦!” Well, he missed the old Lance, too.

“What’s so complicated about it?” she demanded. “You! On ship! With friends! Help people! Be happy! Come home! Not so difficult!”

Maybe she was right. Maybe he just needed a break from Earth, from the same day-to-day life as a farmer. Maybe he just needed a little adventure, a reason to keep living, something that was exhilarating. And nothing was more stimulating than blasting off into space, after all. Maybe he needed to step back, take a breath, and return home with a clear head and a new perspective.

“Look, if it’s the farm you’re worried about, I’m sure it’ll be fine. When I go home on the weekends, I’ll make sure that Dad is taking proper care of the juniberries. And I’ll make Luis make sure the kids don’t trample everything. Okay?” Veronica said, clearly trying to win her brother over. “Oh, and I’ll tell Mom to save the empanadas for when you return, too.”

“It’s just… a big step,” Lance told her. He had so many reasons for staying home, and his brain was devising more every second. He had convinced himself that his fear of losing someone in space was senseless and stupid, but could not shake the fear of losing Allura forever again. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘳𝘮? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥-

𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘪𝘵, he told himself firmly. There was no way she was going to vanish from his consciousness because well, she never left it. And he always had those flashbacks to look forward too, he thought bitterly. She was always in those. Besides, she was always with him. It was the last thing she ever said to him, wasn’t it? Lance’s blue Altean marks told him just that. Perhaps he would bring a juniberry with him, too, to always have a physical part of her with him. He could bear to be away from the rolling flower fields for a week… right?

And so, to spite himself, he lifted his head from his knees and said in a slightly unstable voice, “Tell Pidge I’m coming.”

“Really?” Veronica asked, surprised. “I mean, that’s great! Wow! I’ll tell Pidge right away!”

“I had to do it at some point,” Lance said quietly, more to himself than anything, but Veronica’s sharp ears caught every word.

“Hey,” she said softly, rustling his hair. “I’m proud of you. I know making this choice wasn’t an easy one, but I know you’re gonna have a great time.”

“Thanks,” Lance said, really smiling this time. “I hope so, too.”

*****

“You’re coming! You’re really coming! Wow! I can’t believe it! Well, I mean I can, but then I kind of yelled at you and you got all upset and stormed off: ha, you did a Keith! Anyway, I felt bad and tried to find you but that’s unrelated, the point is, I’m so glad you decided to come!” Pidge said happily, leading Lance back through the Garrison halls and into the laboratory where she spent her days experimenting and creating. The room wasn’t too big, but there were several large windows, about fifty different computer screens, a potted juniberry, and even the paladin heads she crafted out of scrap metal from so long ago. She had even changed Shiro’s hair color to match his all-white head. “While you’re still here, I’ll go into a little more detail about the technicalities of this mission and any other constraints that you should be aware of.” Pidge kicked back into a bright green office chair and pulled out a small device that projected a fuzzy hologram of the Altean moon Xena.

“When do we leave?”

“Sometime next week.”

“So, all we have to do is bring the stuff down to the moon, right?” Lance clarified. “Easy enough.”

“In theory, this is a simple task. However, once you account for the extremely delicate ecosystem, dense atmosphere, and spontaneous pirate attacks, it becomes less straightforward. Nothing we can’t handle, though,” she added, grinning loftily.

“So, what, we like, touch the ground and the whole moon explodes or something? What do you mean by ‘delicate?’” Lance asked skeptically. “If I’m gonna die by stepping on the wrong patch of grass, you can count me out on this one.”

“No, no, only a man-made structure would work like that,” Pidge said, as though it were the most obvious thing ever. “An object cannot voluntarily detonate: there has to be a source that triggers some form of reaction. Fortunately, using the data given to us by the people of Xena, I was able to construct a mostly-accurate depiction of the moon's surface and its four key stabilizing sites-”

“What in the quiznak is a 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦?” Lance asked, throwing his arms into the air. “I’m not a genius like you! Talk to me like I know nothing!”

“Oh, I already am,” Pidge said. She grinned, leaning back in the chair and propped her head behind her hands. “This is common knowledge. It’s basic science!”

Lance groaned. “Okay, but what is a stabilizing site?”

“Like I mentioned previously, about seven times-”

“Once!”

“I definitely said it twice!”

“Whatever! Continue!”

“-the moon is extremely volatile. The atmosphere is pulsing with high-level electricity that’s impossible to circumvent, convert or store in any amenable device, program, or even generator. Recently, a group of Olkari engineers installed four enormous structures that are constantly emitting an anticarbon pulse. That pulse separates the polonium atoms onto a level that is honestly quite astounding, and so the protons naturally repel each other. Those transmissions help to keep the energy levels at bay so that the moon doesn’t close in on itself and fry the entire surface. But three quintants ago, blasts from a rogue band of pirates unintentionally destroyed one of the stabilizers, and-”

“So how is the moon not dead yet?”

“The generator is running on a backup energy alternator, but it won’t last for long. And neither will Xena if we don’t get their supplies soon. Xena needs all four stabilizers transmitting the pulses simultaneously in order to prevent the moon's demise,” Pidge explained while Lance yawned. Suddenly, her eyebrows shot up and she said, “Come to think it, the Atlas runs on a similar type of subatomic engine, so maybe it could act as a substitute for the generator 𝘪𝘧 I was able to hack into the Olkari’s system- with good intentions, of course- but they always have top-notch security… oh! I could reprogram all four of the generators concurrently, so that way, the energy would be split almost 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺, but I don’t know where I’d get the power to do that… hmm…”

“You seemed to have this pretty under control,” Lance noted. “You sure you need me to come?”

“Yup.”

“You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“Aw, Lance, I definitely need you! Sa-𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 that frown upside-down!” she said, grinning. “Eh? 𝘌𝘩? Get it? Saturn, like the planet but also to 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯?”

Lance shook his head, but couldn’t 𝘯𝘰𝘵 smile. Pidge and her puns were a deadly combination.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“We need you,” Pidge said affirmatively. “The task cannot be completed with any less than three people. Coran knows nothing about the stabilizers-”

“-and neither do I-”

“-and Matt never understood physics very well, and you and Keith seem to understand the main gist of it. I, of course, am the all-knowing expert and the leader of this mission,” she added smugly. “We need your skills and experience, Keith’s Blade of Marmora connection, and Matt’s… Matt’s… actually I don’t know why he’s coming,” she realized, frowning. “Probably ‘cause he has to follow me wherever I go.”

“Aren’t 𝘺𝘰𝘶 the one that follows him?”

“It’s a mutual following!”

“You two have such a weird relationship,” Lance said dully. “I can’t tell if you love or hate each other’s company.”

“Most of the time I think it’s a combination of both,” she agreed, typing away at a small computer screen to her left. Lance never understood how she possessed the ability to type and talk simultaneously. He had tried several times, but each ended in a spectacular failure.

“Siblings are annoying and you can never get rid of them.”

“Sounds familiar,” Pidge said slyly, wiggling her eyebrows at Lance.

“Hey, you forced me here!”

“I didn’t 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 you here,” she said disdainfully.

“You 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 of did.”

“No, I did not.”

“Yeah!”

“No!”

“Yes!"

“No!”

“Yes! You know what, Pidge, you’re starting to remind me of my siblings. And that’s not a compliment!” Lance said, crossing his arms.

“Lance, I’ve always regarded you as a brother. Obviously not a biological one because all the Holts are smart-”

“-ouch-”

“-but even though you’re a pain in the neck and you never think things through and you’re very cocky sometimes, you’re still a good person,” Pidge finished, smiling.

“You 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to throw in all those insults before saying one nice thing about me?” Lance asked disparagingly. “Besides, I’ve grown up! I’m way less brash than I used to be. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 haven’t changed, though.”

“Okay, you have matured slightly. That’s probably only because trauma actually promotes faster cellular aging. Did you know that people who suffer serious emotional damage, appear to have an increased risk of shorter telomeres, which are found at the ends of a person's chromosomes, which in turn, makes one develop quicker?” Pidge asked, withdrawing her eyes from the computer to look at Lance with an eager, rather manic smile on her face. “Although I’ve never been too invested in medical science, I was researching the lost-lasting impacts of trauma because it turns out that a lot of pilots at the Garrison have been in near-death experiences more than once. So it’s possible that their blood cells might react differently to this solution that I’ve been working on with Rover Senior. Anyway, you’ve been through a substantial amount of trauma, so would you mind donating seven millilitres of your blood to science to help the greater good?”

“I thought a telomere was an Altean animal,” Lance asked, clearly uninterested. “And no, you’re not taking my blood. Again. What is it with you and blood? Are you like, a vampire now?”

“You know, when I first met Keith, I thought he looked like a vampire,” Pidge recalled. “He was pale and skinny and had dark hair and dark eyes.”

“When I first met you, I thought you were a guy.”

“Ah, well, we’re all connected. We’re all made up of the same cosmic dust. Even vampires and annoying brother-friends who won’t sacrifice three seconds of mild pain for a solution that could potentially save lives,” Pidge said, shooting Lance a knowing look.

“Oh, come on. I’m already saving lives by coming on this mission thing.”

“But you could be saving more!”

“PIDGE I SWEAR-”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

“You should be.”

“I am!”

“Good.”

“Now, are you gonna stay here for the rest of the week or are you gonna go home at some point?” Pidge asked, whipping out a tablet, which she proceeded to type rapidly on.

“All right, I get the point. I’m leaving,” said Lance, feigning heartbreak. “I’ll just go head to the bathroom and cry now, then.”

“Har har har,” Pidge replied, rolling her eyes. Her device beeped and she gasped. “Whoa! Check this out! The Olkari are hosting the annual engineer intelligence meeting!”

“The 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?”

“It’s an intergalactic conference with some of the most prestigious scientists from across the universe! And, wow, I got a personal invite from Ryner! Whoa! It’s soon, too! Next week!” she explained jovially. “Holy quiznak!” Pidge said, jaw dropping.

“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?”

“No… That’s impossible! Only Altean magic can warp space like that… no way.”

“Warp what?”

Pidge’s eyes grew as she continued to read further down the page. “Oh wow! They’re able to see into the quantum realm? Somehow, by harnessing the power of a Balmeran crystal and combining it with an Olkari hyper-engine, they were able to figure out a way to fundamentally warp space in a confined area to their will. Essentially, by using this mechanism, they’re able to teleport objects from across the universe. Oh my god. This is incredible.”

She looked to Lance with shining eyes. “Can you 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 this? I never thought quantum manipulation was even 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 in this reality. Oh my god. I 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 to go to this. This is amazing. I wouldn’t miss this for the 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. Wow. I am ordering two tickets right now: one for me and one for Matt. This revolutionizes how we see our entire world! 𝘞𝘰𝘸. Quiznak! I can’t believe it. Next week, I’ll be able to witness the greatest minds of our generation come together and literally construct 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.” She put down the tablet, eyes still wide, and let everything sink in, uttering a soft “𝘸𝘰𝘸" another time.

“All right, well, I’m gonna head back home now,” Lance announced. “Have fun re-reading your convention invite fifty times.”

“Hasta la later!” Pidge said, picking up her tablet to re-read her convention invite another fifty times. Lance stood up and walked away from Pidge’s cheery lab, only halting when she called his name.

“Lance!”

“Yeah?” he replied, sticking his head in the doorway.

“Nice shirt,” Pidge called, winking. “I thought you still might have it.”

“Thanks,” he said, grinning. “Still not as good as your green turtleneck, though.” And with that, he walked out of the Garrison, hands in his pockets, somehow feeling lighter than he had in a long time.

*****

The days leading up to Lance’s departure were melting away at a rather alarming rate. As soon as he returned home from his meeting with Pidge at the Garrison, he informed his mother of his upcoming mission. At first, she was quite surprised (“𝘈𝘩! 𝘔𝘪𝘫𝘰! 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬? 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩!”) but after Lance explained the circumstances of the trip, she burst into tears, clutched Lance’s shoulders for a good fifteen minutes, and gave a very watery speech about how proud of him she was. Even little Nadia was excited on his behalf: (“𝘞𝘩𝘰𝘢! 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦? 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭! 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦?”). Veronica had punched his shoulder affectionately and said that she was also proud of him.

Overall, Lance was quite pleased by the supportive reactions of his family, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a horrible mistake by leaving. The night after his visit to the Garrison, he slept terribly; even worse than usual. His sleep was punctuated by malevolent, uncontrollable nightmares about his forthcoming return to space. Wicked voices inside Lance’s head hissed at him, reminding him of his failure to protect Allura and how pathetic his life would be when she could have done so much more. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦. 𝘖𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

It was during times like these when Lance dashed out of his room and into the moonlit juniberry fields in a frivolous attempt to rid his head of the sanguinary demons that, no matter what, just couldn’t seem to leave. He had to lean against the rough bark of a towering oak and, with steady breaths, remind himself that, by embarking on this mission with Pidge, he was saving lives. 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘯 lives. And the thought of rescuing Allura’s people was a comfort to him. So, despite the relentless anxiety that he had about the whole ordeal, Lance kept that soothing thought close to his heart while packing his bag, taking care to gently place the now-worn photo of Allura and himself in the front pocket.

“HEY, LANCE!” Veronica bellowed from across the house. “Were you planning on bringing toothpaste?”

“Uh, I don’t know!” he yelled back. “Probably not! Why?”

“OKAY, GOOD. Because Silvio just used the entire tube trying to dye his hair white and it’s all gone!”

“Well, did it work?”

“Of course it didn’t!” she hollered. “We’re out of toothpaste and there is sticky goop all over his head and the entire bathroom now!”

Lance laughed, but Veronica clearly didn’t find it amusing. “YOU’RE LUCKY THAT YOU GET TO LEAVE!” she shouted. “I’d trade places with you any day! You leave tomorrow, right?”

“Yup!”

“I thought so! Before you go, I left some paperwork at the Garrison, can you- 𝘚𝘐𝘓𝘝𝘐𝘖, 𝘕𝘖𝘖𝘖!!! 𝘋𝘖 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘗𝘜𝘛 𝘉𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘊𝘏 𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘉𝘙𝘜𝘚𝘏! 𝘐 𝘋𝘖𝘕’𝘛 𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜’𝘙𝘌 𝘛𝘙𝘠𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘖 𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘓𝘐𝘒𝘌 𝘊𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘈𝘐𝘕 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘖𝘎𝘈𝘕𝘌! 𝘠𝘖𝘜’𝘙𝘌 𝘎𝘖𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘖 𝘔𝘌𝘓𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘙𝘌 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋! ”

Lance chuckled and zipped his backpack shut. Apart from toothpaste (which he really didn’t feel was necessary), he was all packed and ready to go. Pidge had reminded him about six hundred times that departure time was nine am 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱, so he’d better be all ready to get picked up by Matt by eight am or else they’d have to send him all alone in a tiny pod. He sighed, and looked out the window at the rippling fields of juniberries. Of all the things on Earth, he would miss those the most. The comforting, sweet smell of a freshly picked flower was unsurpassed. And above all else, it reminded Lance of 𝘩𝘦𝘳. If he closed his eyes and inhaled the flower’s ambrosial fragrance, he could practically feel Allura laying in his arms, her head pressed against his chest. He could very nearly caress her soft, wavy hair that smelled like the very flower he held now. He could almost hear her soft voice whisper, “𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦,” in her distinct Altean accent.

“𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘒𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘵,” Lance’s communicator announced in its tinny, automated voice, grounding him back to reality. “𝘈𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘺?”

“What?” Lance asked stupidly. “Oh! A call from Pidge?”

“𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘒𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘵. 𝘈𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘺? ”

“Oh, uh, accept.”

“𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘒𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘵… 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘚𝘸𝘪𝘱𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭.”

“Pidge?”

“Oh, hey, Lance.”

“Is everything okay?” Lance asked, perturbed. “You never call me!”

“Yup, everything is fine,” she said in a voice that clearly hinted everything was not fine. “Uh, there have been some complications, but the ship is still scheduled for departure at nine am. And, uh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

“Uh oh. I’m listening.”

Lance could hear Pidge’s unmistakeable sigh through the small communicator, and his gut tightened. He didn’t know what he would say if she called off the mission. Although his fear of returning to space was admittedly still quite prominent, he felt like he 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to go. He felt as though by going, he was proving something, his worth, maybe. Maybe it was to his family and friends, maybe even to Allura, or quite possibly himself.

“Uh, so you remember last week when you came over to the Garrison and we talked about the mission? And then just as you were leaving, I got an invite to the annual engineering intelligence conference and how they developed a teleportation machine by delving into the quantum realm?”

“I don’t remember the quantum stuff but, yeah, you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Yeah… and remember how I said it was next week? Like, last week? Meaning it would be 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬? As in two quintants?”

“Yeah, I… 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵-” Lance broke off, as he realized what Pidge was implying. “Are you saying that-”

“No no no! Well, actually I don’t know what you were about to say so I can’t be certain, but I’m not 𝘣𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 on the mission! I am simply relinquishing my position as captain!”

“You’re bailing out!” he said incredulously. “I don’t believe it!”

“I am 𝘯𝘰𝘵!”

“You totally are!”

“No, I am not!”

“Yes!”

“Well, maybe I am just a little bit BUT that’s irrelevant. I can’t miss this conference! The top scientists in the entire 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 will be there! And I got a personal invite from Ryner!” Pidge said defensively.

For a reason beyond Lance’s comprehension, he felt like crying. A lump was already forming in his throat. He was relieved that this was just a voice call, for Pidge would surely make fun of him for crying over something so stupid. He didn’t even know 𝘸𝘩𝘺 he felt so crushed; she hadn’t cancelled it or anything. A part of him was tremendously solaced by the thought that perhaps he wouldn’t have to go after all, but another part, the mystifying part, was quite dejected by this news.

“Lance, I’m sorry, okay? This just means so much to me, and I can’t miss it. I can’t miss it, Lance! This could as well be the most important day in my entire life except for the time I helped to save all of existence but that’s irrelevant because nothing is more exciting and important than learning new forms of technology!!”

Lace cleared his throat before replying, “Is… is the mission still gonna happen?” He bit his lip, dreading the answer.

“Well of course it’s still happening,” Pidge said conspicuously. “The Alteans can’t heal themselves! Well, actually, some of these new featured devices at the conference 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 actually fix that. There’s this one that has a similar function to a laser, except instead of 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 the atoms using intense heat, it welds them together using a serum that was discovered only one phoeb ago! I also read about this one-”

“Pidge, hold up,” Lance interrupted. “What is happening to the mission, then?”

“Ohh, right, apologies, got sidetracked there. Well, there’s nothing that can be changed about it. We promised to bring in the A.C.S.Q.B.S’s, so-”

“The 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? Angry Crab Sociopathic Quintessence Bullying Squad?”

“No, no, no. A.C.S.Q.B.S stands for anticarbon stabilizing quintessence-based systems. The, for lack of a better word, 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘴 that I told you about.”

“Oh, right.”

“The citizens of Xena are doomed if we don’t bring in the supplies and battery within the next phoeb. If we wait another movement, we put the entire moon at risk. And if we hold off even longer, Xena could detonate, wiping out all of its nearby moon. I use the word ‘nearby’ relative to the vast expanse of space. Each are billions of miles apart, but that won’t stop Xena combustion from consuming half of the Altean solar system,” Pidge explained. She sighed. “Lance, I know that it might be selfish of me to back down from the mission in order to attend the engineering intelligence conference. But I already saved the entire universe and all the existing realities. And that was only a deca-phoeb ago. I’m not saying that I won’t ever help anyone else again, but this conference is really, really important to me. And I don’t really know what I mean by saying this, but I get the feeling that you need to go on the Xena mission, even if I’m not there.”

Lance was silent, pondering everything Pidge had just said. He agreed that she did deserve a break which was all well and fine, but it was the last thing she said that had caught him off guard.

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘟𝘦𝘯𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦."

It was so strange, because 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰.

Perhaps he had 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 had that feeling. And perhaps he had never really accepted that until just a second ago.

Lance rarely heard Pidge as desperate as she was now. Although he couldn’t see her, he was certain that her fingers were crossed, hoping that he’d consent.

“Does… is anyone else, like, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 going?” he asked offhandedly. He wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t want to venture out alone.

“Matt is accompanying me to Olkarion,” Pidge said, with an air of getting the worst over with.

“So, it’ll be just Coran and Keith and I?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re completely okay with the three of us zooming off to another galaxy and dropping off some pillar things that we know nothing about?”

“Yes.”

“And you trust 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘯 to help the people of Xena install these things?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to say something other than ‘yes?’”

“Yes.”

Lance groaned. “Pidge, c’mon. We can’t do this without you! Coran is only familiar with ten thousand year-old Altean technology and always confuses me when he tries to explain things. Keith… well I don’t know for sure but I’m pretty certain he doesn’t know anything about these things. And me?” He paused, and his voice dropped. “I don’t know anything about this. I’ve been working on a farm for the past year.”

“Lance,” she said, in a much softer voice. “I know, and I’m really sorry that I can’t come. But I trust you guys. And even if it’s been an entire deca-phoeb since you’ve been to space, I’ve been around you long enough to know that you always put yourself before others. And that’s enough, really. I gave Keith detailed instructions on the procedure, and I’ll have him send them to you as well.”

He was silent; his head a whirl of emotions. Mostly fear and desperation, but deep down, Lance felt steadfast curiosity. The same that had gotten him to apply for the Galaxy Garrison in the first place, that had brought him to the roof to find Pidge, that had prompted his adventures and exploits. Since the loss of Allura, that curiosity, that 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, had been submerged beneath seemingly impenetrable layers of pain and grief.

That is, up until a week ago, when Pidge had asked him to go on this mission, when she had asked him to quite literally 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 and take a step back out into the uncharted depths of space. 𝘌𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦, he thought bitterly. But did he have a choice?

Well, of course he did.

He could make a very selfish choice.

Or he could make a self𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 choice.

Although he didn’t know a lot, Lance knew one thing about himself: he knew that if he backed down from this now, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He hardly could 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 a contrite conscience, anyway.

“Lance?” Pidge asked. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Did you… decide?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “I’m still going.”

“Thank you, Lance,” Pidge said in an uncharacteristically genuine voice. “I owe you one!”

“Oh, you definitely do,” Lance agreed, smiling slightly. “What about… when I come back, you have to build me one of those robot cleaning things?”

“You mean a self-cleaning vacuum?”

“Yeah! Then my mom would stop screaming at me for not cleaning the floors early enough.”

“Deal.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it! All right, well I should probably get my stuff packed for Olkarion. And so should you!”

“I already did,” Lance said.

“Oh,” Pidge replied, a little guiltily. “Right. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow for the launch ‘cause Matt and I don’t leave till Thursday. I’ll draft your self-cleaning vacuum designs tonight! Or shall I say, I’ll 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯-et.”

“Har har har.”

“I thought that one was pretty good,” Pidge said defensively. “No?”

“Nope, it was worse than your Saturn one.”

“Aww,” she said, sounding legitimately disappointed. “I’ll have to work on those, then. Well, see you later!”

“See you tomorrow!”

“Adios!”

𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘱.

“𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘒𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥,” the communicator informed him. Lance sighed, and collapsed onto the bed, device still in hand. As the sun began to sink beneath the mountains and his eyes gradually closed, images of swirling nebulas, interstellar comets, and blinking stars all danced around inside his head. Perhaps his favorite thing about space was the stars. Tiny, flickering pinpoints of light against an impenetrably black expanse, each holding a surreal amount of warmth and luminescence. Stars made him feel so insignificant and unimportant, until he realized that he helped to literally save all of existence. But this torrent of emotions also evoked a certain vulnerability that only emanated from the stars: the kind that made you spill out all your feelings and probably regret it afterwards. He remembered the time at the Garrison, when Hunk and him had snuck out onto the rooftop after a particularly exhausting day of lessons. Hunk had asked him how he was feeling, and Lance had told him every single little detail pertaining to his life, even an embarrassing one about a certain girl named Jenny. In the end, he didn’t really know 𝘸𝘩𝘺 he said all that, but Hunk was very pleased about his “moment of best friend vulnerability,” and proceeded to ramble about his mother’s banana cake because he thought that they were “sharing their insecurities.” Ultimately, Lance blamed the stars, but couldn’t hide the fact that he enjoyed opening up a bit.

But now, opening up to 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 was truly an absurd idea that could only end in humiliation, and vowed to not participate in any stargazing whatsoever on this mission. Sobbing in front of Keith was the last thing he wanted to do.

So, he put on a strong face and put all that behind him, directly infringing Shiro’s warning. “𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳: 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥-𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦, 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺?” Lance had appreciated Shiro’s offer, but had never taken him up on it.

Besides, sometimes splinters come out by themselves… right?

With that somewhat comforting thought, Lance drifted off to sleep, dreams a blur of stars, giant pillars, more stars, and oddly, no Allura.


	3. departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a miscommunication provokes a short hike and a reserved, yet poignant conversation. lance almost forgets his deodorant, the holt siblings heckle keith, shiro tries to kiss curtis, and a ship launches. and even after all that, coran is still coran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and, as I've mentioned before, please don't attack me over certain ships, specifically shiro and curtis. as I mentioned before, I'm going off the canon ending which I did actually like. so if for some reason you don't like that ship, then this is not the story for you!  
> thank you :)

october 16th  
____

“Lance!” a high-pitched voice squealed, shaking a sleeping figure's shoulders vigorously. “Uncle Lance, get up! The sun is up! Your friend is here! You’re going to SPACE today!!”

“Urrghhh,” the latter groaned, covering his face with a pillow. “What time is it?”

“It’s seven o’clock on the DOT! It’s morning time, Lance! Laaaaance! C’mon! Your friend wants to see you! But you should probably put on a shirt first!”

“My friend?” he asked, disoriented, face still smothered by a pillow. “What?”

“Yeah! The one with the ponytail and the scratch on his face!”

“𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩 is here?” Lance asked incredulously, fully awake now. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and blinked at Nadia, who was beaming.

“Yeah!” she said happily. “I forgot his name! He gave me 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴,” she said, holding out a miniature, glowing crystal. “He says that it’s a 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 crystal from a Ball-Mera. It’s too small to use, but it looks nice, is what he said. I’m going to take care of it forever,” Nadia declared, squeezing the rock tightly in her small hands.

“Wait,” Lance said, frowning. “It’s seven o’clock? Pidge said that we don’t leave till nine! What is Keith doing here an hour early?”

“He says he’s here to pick you up!” Nadia explained. “So hurry up! Mama made fruit salad for breakfast with the strawberries that I GREW, Uncle Lance! Isn’t that AWESOME?”

Lance smiled, still perplexed as to why Keith was here, but followed Nadia down the stairs anyway. And her word was true: Keith was standing in the kitchen, talking with Marco, and sporting a Garrison jacket and his usual dark pants. His eyes widened when he saw Lance being dragged into the kitchen by Nadia, and looked down, rather abashed.

“Hey, man, what-” Lance started, but stopped when he noticed Marco’s abashed face. “Uh…”

“Your 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, dude,” Marco reminded him in an exasperated voice. “You’re not wearing a shirt. And those are 𝘮𝘺 shorts.”

“Oh! Oh, quiznak, that’s embarrassing, let me go change real quick,” Lance said, face hot, and dashed back up the stairs. “I told him to put a shirt on,” Nadia’s small voice echoed from the kitchen. “But I think he forgot!”

He threw on a t-shirt and jeans, inwardly cursing his stupid morning brain fog, vowed to always listen to Nadia, and ran back down the stairs again. “Sorry,” he said embarrassedly. “I just woke up and uh, that was what I had on. Uh, so anyway, not to be rude or anything but… why are you here?”

“You’re going to SPACE, Uncle Lance!” Nadia chimed. “I told you that too, remember! Keith is here to pick you up! Remember I said that?”

“I got up two minutes ago, give me a second to process things,” Lance said, plopping down in one of the kitchen chairs. “Pidge said that we leave at nine… right?”  
“Uh, yeah, that’s what I heard,” Keith agreed, clearing his throat. “She told me to pick you up at seven.”

“What?”

“Pidge told me to pick you up at seven in the morning 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱, or else she’d send a herd of yelmores after me,” he repeated.

“What? Yesterday she said that 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵 would pick me up at eight!”

“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?”

“Pidge must have given you the wrong time, then.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I swear she said it was eight o’clock.”

Keith frowned. “That’s not what she told 𝘮𝘦.”

“So I could have slept in for another hour,” Lance sighed.

“𝘔𝘪𝘫𝘰, don’t be rude!” his mother chided, entering the kitchen with a large bowl of fruit salad. “Your friend came all the way here to pick your lazy bum up! Now why don’t you act like a good host and offer him some breakfast?”

“Keith, would you like some breakfast?” Lance asked dully.

“That would be 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 nice, Lance, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶,” Keith responded in a tantalizing voice, taking a seat next to Nadia. Lance scowled and shoved a plate of fruit salad across the table.

“So what are you gonna do in SPACE?” Nadia asked eagerly, shoving spoonfuls of entirely home-grown fruit into her mouth.

“Save some people,” Lance answered impassively.

“Who?” she inquired, eyes bright.

“Some people on Xena.”

“Where’s that?”

“A moon in the Altean system.”

“What’s Altean?”

“𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘢 is a planet.”

“Is it pretty?”

“Yes, it’s very pretty.”

“Can I go there?”

“Maybe someday.”

“Why not now?”

“Because it’s very far away, Nadia, and you’re too young.”

“Aww,” she said, looking disappointed. “But you were only seventeen when you drove the big lions!”

“Exactly. I was way too young to do that. Besides, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 still have another ten years before you’re seventeen.”

“But I wanna go 𝘯𝘰𝘸.”

“Time goes by faster than you think,” Keith broke in. “You know, if you 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 want to get older, then you could spend some time on the back of a titanic cosmic whale in the Quantum Abyss.”

“A 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦?” Nadia gushed. “Oh wow! Did 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ride a giant space whale?”

“Yes, for two years.”

“For two 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴?” she gasped. “Whoa.”

“Really?” Marco interjected. “Lance, you never told me 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴!”

“Sorry, you never 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 me if I knew anyone that spent two years floating on a space narwhal demon,” Lance replied, glaring.

“It was not a 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯,” Keith diverged. “The creature was really calm and gentle. It even let my mom-”

“You went with your 𝘮𝘰𝘮?” Nadia interrupted. “Wow! Mamí, 𝘸𝘦 should live on a huge whale in space for two years!”

“𝘈𝘪𝘪𝘪!” her mother exclaimed. “No thank you! You couldn’t 𝘱𝘢𝘺 me to do that! I’m already growing alien flowers and that’s enough for me!”

“I think that would be cool!” Rachel, Lance’s older sister, said, entering the kitchen with their Aunt Lisa and little Sylvio. She glowered at the basket of laundry she held. “Much more exciting than cleaning your dirty underwear, 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lance said, trying to hide his fervent humiliation. “Cleaning my clothes is the most interesting thing you do all day.”

Rachel opened her mouth angrily, but Lisa, sensing conflict, interrupted. “Rachel, give him a break. He works outside, so of course his clothes are dirty,” she scolded, taking the basket from Rachel’s arms. “Oh, 𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘴, Keith!” she added, waving.

“Nice to see you.”

Sylvio sighed and squatted on a chair next to Nadia. “He’s 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 sad because Mamí made him wash the toothpaste out of his hair,” she explained to Keith.

“Toothpaste?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“He wanted to have white hair like Captain Shirogane,” she informed him, while Keith laughed.

“I think white hair would be cool,” Rachel said dreamily. “It would make me look 𝘦𝘹𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤.”

“It would make you look stupid,” Lance cut in rudely.

“You didn’t seem to think it made 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘢 look stupid,” she snapped. The room fell silent, and Lance’s stomach tightened. “Don’t bring her into this,” he managed. Keith stole a glance at Lance, and inhaled sharply. He knew that Lance wasn’t the same after the death of Allura, but he didn’t know that it was 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘥. With just the briefest mention of 𝘩𝘦𝘳 name, his skin had paled, his fists had clenched, and maybe it was just the light but his eyes appeared to have dulled. From the night of Shiro’s wedding, Keith concluded that he was struggling: Lance’s flashback said enough. He also knew that painful flashbacks were not uncommon; Shiro had relived several of his most agonizing memories from his Galra capture. But unlike Shiro’s episodes which gradually came to a stop, Lance was clearly still burdened by the immense weight of Allura’s untimely death.

“Rachel,” Lance’s mother said in an uncharacteristically steeled voice. “Why don’t you go help Luis gather the rest of the strawberries?”

Rachel glared at Lance one more time before sauntering out of the room. The air was stiff with tension, and even little Nadia seemed to sense that something was wrong. Lance remained glued to his chair. His trembling hands were the only thing moving. Marco cleared his throat, while Lisa poked at her fruit salad.

“All riiight,” Lance’s mother said, trying to dispose of the tension. “Well, Lisa and I will clean up now, so why don’t you kids show Keith around the property?”

“But I’m not done-” Sylvio started, but fell silent when his mom shot him a warning glance. “Okay.”

“There you go, 𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘻𝘶𝘳𝘢,” his grandmother chimed. “Shoo!” Nadia and Sylvio, followed by Keith, who opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. “C’mon, Keith!” Sylvio said, as the kitchen door closed behind them. “Look at our flowers!”

Once everyone had left the room, Lance’s mother sat down next to him and extended an arm. “Are you okay, 𝘮𝘪𝘫𝘰?” she asked softly.

Lance took a deep breath before replying, “Y-yeah. I’m fine. I think I’ll go outside now, if that’s all right.” Without looking back, he stood up, righted himself, and walked out the door, pursuing Keith and Sylvio.

When the kitchen door bounced shut, Lance’s mother sighed, and sank down into one of the chairs. She felt so terrible for her son, but knew that she couldn’t help. Heck, she only knew a little of what had happened, and all that she heard was from Veronica. “𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮,” Veronica had told her, when they returned from that mission a year ago. “𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘢. 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳? 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵. 𝘉𝘶𝘵… 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸.” On several occasions, she had tried bringing up the subject but every time, Lance had shut her down and wandered off into the flower fields, and then she wouldn’t see him for hours. She didn’t understand it: he would be (mostly) content, Allura’s name would slip out, and then he would vanish until the sun sank behind the mountains. But other times, he would intentionally bring up her name, often without context, and be fine discussing it.

She just wished she could help ease some of the pain.

“He’ll be alright,” Marco said, re-entering the room, and putting an arm around his mother. “He just needs some time.”

“He’s 𝘩𝘢𝘥 time,” she whispered. “Nothing changed.”

“Maybe all he needs is some time in space to clear his head a little,” Marco suggested. “Lance is a strong kid. Once he accepts that it wasn’t his fault, he’ll bounce back again. You know Lance. You know, I bet this mission will really help him. It’ll remind him of his duties as a paladin, he’ll get to hang out with his friends, and take a break.”

“I hope you’re right,” was all she could muster. Because she didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t.

_____

“And 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 is where we grow our carrots,” Nadia finished, clapping her hands together. “Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” Keith responded, smiling slightly at her bubbly energy. “That was a really… 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 tour.”

“Thank you!” she replied, beaming, clearly oblivious to the definition of concise. “Oh, hey Uncle Lance!” she cried, waving. “Come over here!” Lance obliged, and ran across the grassy, open field to where Nadia, Sylvio, and Keith stood under the shade of a tall, ancient oak tree. “We were telling Keith about our gardens!”

“He said that he doesn’t like zucchini,” Sylvio added, frowning. “𝘐 like zucchini.”

“Keith just doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” Lance assured him in the most-normal voice that he could convoke. “Zucchini is great.”

“Are you okay?” Nadia asked, sitting down next to her uncle. “Your voice sounds sleepy.”

Lance sighed before answering. “I’ll be okay.”

A silence fell upon them all, each lost of their own thoughts (Sylvio was still confused as to how Keith disliked zucchini) until eventually Nadia declared that she wanted more of “her” strawberries and wandered off back towards the house. Sylvio grinned, leaned back against the tree, and said, “I feel like a 𝘮𝘢𝘯 now. A man surrounded by men.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You and I are the only real men here,” he said, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Lance was displeased, but Sylvio found it hilarious. He erupted into a fit of giggles before asking in a serious voice, “Is it true that you are friends with Captain Shirogane?’

“Oh yeah,” Keith responded, amused at the intensity of the little one’s admiration. “I've known him since I was a little older than you.”

“Really?” Sylvio asked, eyes popping. “Before the Kerberos mission?”

“Yup. I didn’t have the easiest childhood, but Shiro helped me to get back on track. He always felt like an older brother,” he reminisced. Despite his residual assortment of conflicting emotions, Lance couldn’t help but be surprised by Keith’s candid stories, and how 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 he was with little Sylvio, who, for the record, was hanging onto every word he spoke.

“Wow.”

“I think you’d be able to meet him some day,” Keith suggested. “I bet he’d like talking to you.”

“You really think so?” Sylvio marveled, face practically glowing with admiration.

“For sure,” he said, nodding. “Maybe even once we get back from our mission.”

“Wow,” Sylvio breathed. “I am going to ask my mamí right now if we can go 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸!” With that, he ran off, shouting about Kerberos and Voltron, leaving Keith next to Lance, who rested his head on his knees, clearly still afflicted by Rachel’s cutting comment. The two sat in a rather awkward silence (although Lance was evidently unbothered by it) until Keith couldn’t stand it anymore.

“So, uh, you looking forward to the launch?” he asked, internally condemning his incompetent conversation skills.

“Yeah,” Lance answered, lifting his head to gaze up at the sky. “It’ll be cool to finally get away from here.”

“Really?” Keith asked, surprised. “Last I heard, Pidge had to bribe you to come.”

“She didn’t 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘦 me,” he responded disparagingly. “She promised she would come and then she bailed out. She’s building me a robot as an 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 gift. Besides,” Lance added in a quieter voice. “It’s been a minute since I’ve been up there.”

“Well I said yes right away and I didn’t get a robot.”

“That’s cause you don’t live on a farm that needs constant cleaning, mullet man.”

“I grew out my hair a 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 ago,” Keith argued. “You’re the one with a mullet.”

“I do NOT have a mullet,” Lance disputed, standing up and facing away from the latter with his arms crossed. “I, unlike you, have a sense of 𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘦.”

“Oh really? Yeah, your lion themed underwear was the epitome of 𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘦.”

“Those were 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘰’𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘴,” Lance said loudly. “You wear the same thing every day. At least 𝘐 change it up.”

“That is 𝘯𝘰𝘵 true. I got a bunch of new clothes at the Space Mall last month.”

“Oh yeah? Are they all either black or red?’

“No! I got a gray jacket too!”

Lance scoffed and turned around to face Keith with a derisive look on his face. “Seriously?” he asked cynically.

“Red and black are cool colors,” Keith said defensively. “Besides, they remind me of my lions.”

“𝘔𝘺 lion, you mean?”

“Red was mine first!”

“She was mine for three years!”

“That’s only because of the time warp in the Quantum Abyss.”

“She was still mine!”

“Your logic doesn’t make sense.”

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 don’t make sense!”

Keith threw up his hands and declared, “I am not going to debate this with you anymore! From two years of experience I’ve learned that it’s best to just ignore you. So while you criticize my clothes, 𝘐 am going to walk around before we leave.” With that, he turned around and walked off towards the path leading to the forest, leaving behind a very taken aback Lance.

For a moment, Lance hesitated. Keith was just being difficult and pursuing him would only provoke 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 arguing.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to be left alone. They only had twenty minutes left till they had to leave, anyway. Besides, the sun was creeping out and the fields looked serene and inviting. The juniberries danced in the soft summer breeze, birds soared overhead, and the luscious green woods were particularly luscious and green today. Maybe it wouldn’t be 𝘴𝘰 bad.

So, Lance pushed himself up, dusted off his favorite blue shirt, and shouted, “Wait up!” Keith was nearly at the forest, but turned around, surprised by the sound of Lance’s voice. Lance tossed his shoes aside and ran down the path, bare feet flying over the sun-baked earth. He came to a skidding halt right in front of Keith and clutched his side, gasping.

“Y-you- walk 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵,” Lance wheezed, in between heavy breaths.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 run slow.”

“I just ran across a giant flower field to walk with you, so don’t complain!”

“I’m honored,” Keith said sardonically, with a trace of a grin on his face.

“Don’t be,” Lance assured him, still panting slightly. “I only followed you to make sure that you wouldn’t get lost and then we’d have to search for you and then we’d be late to the launch and Pidge would murder us and thousands of people on Xena would die.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.”

The two boys came to a stop in front of a fork in the road. One path delved deep into a shaded pine grove, while the other followed a rocky trail towards a small mountain not too far away. Both looked uniformly alluring and pleasant.

“So, what’ll it be? Hill or woods?”

“Hill,” Keith replied, without hesitation. “I hate stepping on pinecones.”

“Maybe wearing something on your feet would help,” Lance suggested sarcastically, gesturing towards the pair of boots that Keith clutched in his right hand. “You’re literally not wearing any shoes.”

“Neither are you,” he pointed out.

“I 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 here.”

“I know! I just like not wearing shoes and being able to feel the ground. There’s a kind of freedom to it, that 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 feel, I guess. It’s nice. Calming.”

“That much I can agree with,” Lance said, and lead them down the rocky path. There was little conversation: each was absorbed in his own thoughts as they made their way up the vast landscape. The further they climbed, the more spectacular the view got. Keith, who was notably fond of the outdoors, found the hike to be quite enjoyable. It sounded stupid, but each unpretentious step was quite remarkable. He figured that there was a sort of sole-infusion, an exchange of energy, similar to that of the lions, when one walked barefoot upon the earth. Feeling the stones beneath his feet, Keith tilted his back to behold fields of juniberries that stretched far beyond his range of sight, where small birds cut across the air. Swooping, spinning, spiraling and diving with a freedom that he longed to have. To soar throughout the boundless skies, 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, without the burden of social interactions, would be absolutely impeccable.

𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, he thought, glancing sideways at Lance, who swore loudly as he tripped over the rugged turf, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦. He wouldn’t admit it yet, but Keith had been pleasantly surprised when Pidge called him last week to inform him of Lance’s accompaniment. Despite his annoying commentary and stupid behavior, Keith had, more or less, grown fond of Lance. Which is why his behavior at the table, and frankly, for the past year, had unsettled Keith. No longer was he the cocky, flirtatious, dumb, yet endearing sharpshooter that he had been. And, okay, Keith didn’t miss 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, but something still felt off. Sure, he had matured a great deal during his relationship with Allura, but even then, he was still his old outgoing and lighthearted self.

Keith snuck a glimpse at his friend, who was attempting to dig a splinter out of his foot. Although Lance seemed to be normal now, he knew that something was still hanging over him. Keith had always been observant and preferred to keep those observations to himself, especially about more emotional situations. Because Lord knows, he was 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 at talking about feelings. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with Lance. There was something so raw and anguished in the way Lance had said, “𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.” It had sounded more like pleading than anything else.

From the countless times that Keith had stopped by Lance’s farm to pick up supplies and food for his Blade of Marmora relief missions, he had always seemed well. It was clear that he was still grieving, but never showed any 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 warning signs. To see Lance in the midst of a flashback (and now this!) had been unnerving, to say the least. But how was he able to brush it off so easily?

“𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩,” Lance said in an exasperated voice.

“Huh?” he said, blinking, and turned.

“I said your name twice! We’re at the summit, if you want to rest for a couple minutes before heading to the Garrison.”

“Oh,” Keith said, taking in his surroundings. “Oh 𝘸𝘰𝘸.”

If the view from the trail was pretty, then this was 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. From atop the hill, they gazed down upon the picturesque farm amidst the fields of juniberries and gentle grasses. The wind swept through the early morning mist, revealing sweeping valleys, luscious forests, distant, undulating hills, and rugged mountains that rolled on as far as the eye could see. The early morning sun cast a beautiful orangish hue on the tips of towering trees. Dawn spilled out over the mountains to the east, unleashing a warm glow on the land, turning the juniberries a gentle salmon color. There was beauty, there was light, there was lucidity, there was nothing but the warm morning air and the sounds of life itself.

And Lance, of course.

“Wow,” Keith repeated, blinking once more. “It’s… beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, smiling slightly. He sat down near the edge, feet dangling over a fifty foot drop. “It’s nice.”

Keith stood rather awkwardly for about a minute, in the thick of an intense internal battle, before deciding to take a seat about three feet away (for good measure) from Lance. “Do you… come up here often?” he asked, rather hesitantly.

“Yeah.” Lance paused. “A lot.”

“Oh.”

There was a moment of silence only interrupted by the faint singing of birds perched in trees somewhere far below. Lance twisted a juniberry in his fingers, a strange, almost wistful look in his eyes. Keith sensed a shift in the mood and turned to look at Lance.

“You lived by yourself, right?” he inquired unexpectedly.

“What?” Keith asked dubiously. “When?”

“After you got expelled. You lived alone for a few years, a couple miles away from the Garrison, right?”

“Y-yeah,” he replied, unsure where Lance was taking this. “I mean, it wasn’t super fun, but I survived. Why?”

“I was just wondering,” Lance answered, still staring at the flower in his hand.

“You’re not thinking of leaving your family… are you?”

“I dunno,” Lance said dully. “I-I feel kind of out of place. I’m nineteen: I should be out of the house, doing something. Helping people. I’m a paladin, that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“You 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 a paladin,” Keith interjected, voice quiet. “Just because you were one doesn’t mean that you have to be one forever.”

“Yeah, but everyone else is doing something,” Lance blurted out, not knowing why he was voicing his insecurities to 𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩 at seven forty five on a Tuesday morning. “Pidge is building ships and doing genius things with Matt. Shiro is helping to run the Garrison and training pilots. Hunk literally has a culinary empire. Coran is an Altean ambassador. You’re helping people across the universe.” He sighed. “And I’m growing flowers and corn.”

Keith blinked, making sure he heard everything correctly. Lance had only actually 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 about his self-doubt twice before, so naturally, he was quite surprised and unable to get a word out. “Those flowers and corn you grow help to save lives, Lance. The Blades rely on your family’s produce to feed thousands of people.”

“Yeah, but if you guys didn’t do the actual hard work, then it would just be going to waste.”

“You’re missing the point. Without your family’s farm, the Blades wouldn’t be what they are today. Shiro says that you even supply food for some of the Garrison, too,” he said ardently.

Lance sighed once more. “I know. But I feel like… like I could be doing more.” He paused, swallowed, then said quietly, “That’s the thing about saving all of existence. Anything you do is pathetic in comparison. 𝘐'𝘮 pathetic.” He ripped the juniberry in half and flung it off the edge, where it fluttering down helplessly. Lance wiped his face and said in a frustrated voice, “I can’t go one night without having nightmares. I can’t even 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 her name without breaking down. I’m not even that good at farming!” he cried, voice cracking. “I watch them all day and sometimes all night, but the stupid flowers keep dying!”

"Those ones don't look dead," Keith said uncomfortably.

"Those are the ones my mom planted," Lance said bitterly.

Keith was at a loss for words. He was a terrible counselor, and talking with Lance was uncomfortable, simply because he never, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 talked like this. He desperately wanted to offer some comfort, some amenity, but his throat was too dry to form words. 𝘐𝘧 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺? (𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙗𝙮) he asked himself despondently.

Keith concluded that Shiro would probably give some sort of metaphor, tell Lance to not give up on himself, and then reassure him with a good old, 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴.

But Keith was not Shiro. Keith was brash, sometimes insensitive, oblivious to social cues, and he was worse than Pidge when it came to discussing emotions. But if there was one thing he knew more about than any of the other paladins, it was 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴: emotional barricades that averted any open reflecting and confessions. He assumed that the loss of Allura had put Lance on the defense, shielding him from any additional assaults while he still tended to his raw, stinging wounds. Keith also knew that if these walls were left unchecked, they would inadvertently become a self-made prison.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺. Keith was familiar with that much. Left up too long or built too dense, and Lance would languish behind them. A mere reassurance of the idea that he wasn’t going to get hurt again, while simultaneously allowing his insecurities and fears to multiply.

And Keith knew that this moment was important because the latter had let his walls down, and for just the 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘵 of ticks, he could see that Lance really was struggling. Letting walls down and becoming vulnerable was downright terrifying, and Keith felt oddly pleased that in this moment, Lance chose to open up to 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

But he would never say that aloud.

Actually, he couldn’t say 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 aloud: for at the moment, he was still tongue-tied and utterly disconcerted. He wanted to say a thousand different things, yet nothing comprehensible formed in his mind. “Lance, I-” he started, unsure of where he would take this, but started nonetheless.

“Just forget it,” Lance said abruptly, rebuilding the walls faster than a space of of the recently upgraded IGF-Atlas. Keith looked at him, surprised, but Lance paid him no mind. “We need to go now, anyway. We still have a bit of a hike down.” With that, he stood up, brushed off his pants, and started back down the trail again.

Keith was confused.

And startled.

And honestly, he was a little hurt.

Keith knew that Lance was going through a rough time, and that any lashing out or ostracizing others was to be expected. But still, as he got up and followed Lance back down the path, he couldn’t help but take 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 of it personally. Out of all the paladins, Keith had spent the most time on the McClain family farm. Although most of it had been on Blade of Marmora business- picking up the food they’d use on their next mission and all that- he’d often stay to chat with Lance, and occasionally, even for a meal. The conversation had always been light and joking because, well, it was 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. And Keith had enjoyed himself! Lance was admittedly pretty ridiculous in an endearing sort of way and, (when he wasn’t suffering from flashbacks) a fun guy to be around. Lance’s family amused Keith, and he always liked telling Nadia and Sylvio tales from his adventures as a paladin of Voltron. In a way, they almost felt like family, too.

But he would never say that aloud.

𝘊𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐’𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱? Keith thought angrily, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his new Garrison jacket, a gift from Romelle he received last year (actually she also bought him matching sweatpants, socks, a t-shirt, and even a beanie with the same Garrison logo, but he only wore the jacket and socks). 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴. And yet, why was it that every time Lance smiled, Keith felt a tug at his gut, and a warm sensation that reached even the tips of his toes? Why was it that Keith stayed at the farm long after supplies had been collected? And why was it that would go out of his way to make Lance smile again?

Keith had a vague idea, but the thought in itself was utterly trivial. So, he tried not to think about it. He had more important work to do, after all.

As they made their way down the hill and back to the flower fields, Keith couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about his abrogating and rather cruel thoughts. He had to cut Lance some slack, right? The poor guy had lost someone who meant the world to him only a year ago. So Keith decided to exploit his inner Shiro and push it aside because at the end of the day, Lance’s ignorance ultimately did not matter. Or at least, that’s what Keith told himself as he kicked at the soft grass with his bare toes. By this point, the sun was fully out and the earth was warm beneath his feet. When they reached the edge of the juniberry field, Lance came to an abrupt halt and plucked one of the elegant flowers. He inhaled its sweet scent, smiled wistfully, and pocketed it.

At last, the pair returned to Lance’s house, where they were greeted by nine friendly faces. His family circled around Lance and enveloped him in a hug so heartwarming that, despite his prior aggravation, Keith couldn’t help but smile.

“Guys, this is really unnecessary. Ow, Lisa, that’s my head! Mama, I’m going to be okay! It’s no biggie, remember how I was in space for a whole year?” Lance protested, trying to wriggle out of his brother’s firm grasp while Nadia clutched his legs.

“We’re gonna miss you, Uncle Lance,” she cried. “Promise you’ll be back soon!”

“I 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭! It’s only for a week! One day there, five days helping, one day back. Before you know it, I’ll be back here, beating you in 𝘈𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘖𝘯 𝘈𝘳𝘶𝘴 𝘐𝘐 again.”  
“You’ll 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 beat me! I got the level twenty-four blaster since the last time you played with me!” Nadia bragged, crossing her arms triumphantly.

“Level twenty-four?” Marco interrupted, looking aghast. “Nadia, how did you progress that far? I only have the level twenty-one blaster and I’ve played for twice as long!”

“Marco, Nadia, ¡𝘤á𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦!” Lance’s mother ordered, then turned to her youngest son. “𝘔𝘪𝘫𝘰, I got your bag from upstairs. Are you sure this is all you need?” she asked, frowning at the backpack. “It’s very small.”

“Yes, Mama, I’ll be fine,” Lance assured her, giving her a hug. “They have most of my supplies already on the ship.”

“They better! All right, we hope you have a great time. Get pictures for us, and don’t forget to drink plenty of water and be careful of aliens and tell Veronica that she better come home early today to help!” she told him, ruffling his hair. “And Keith, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪ñ𝘰, take care of him, okay?” she added, walking over and pulling him into a tight hug as well.

“I’ll try,” he affirmed, a little embarrassed, but Lance just scoffed. The two of them walked back to Keith’s vehicle and waved one final time to the bubbly family.

“¡𝘈𝘥𝘪ó𝘴! ¡𝘛𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘰!”

“See you in a week!”

“Don’t get lost in space!”

“Don’t die!”

“We love you!”

“Don’t forget to put on deodorant!”

“MAMA!” Lance hollered exasperatedly, as Keith started the engine. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

With that, the automobile drove off down the road, leaving behind the pleasant farm and rolling hills. Lance sighed, but had a determined look on his face. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺, he told himself. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦.

The car continued to zoom off into the horizon, where Lance could make out the faint silhouette of the tall Garrison buildings in the distance. Keith switched to auto-drive mode, blurry fields racing by, congenial view surmounted by the vehicle’s profound speeds. He shot a curious glance at Lance, who was staring straight ahead, face set in a firm resolve.

Lance looked back at the farm, growing smaller by the second, the place he had called home for the last year, but soon it was out of sight. Although he was undeniably scared, he was ready.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, he thought decisively.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

.・。.・゜✭・*✧.・✫・٭🟅゜・。.

“Keith Kogane, member of the Blade of Marmora, former black paladin of Voltron, and dorm number 610,” Keith said to the speaker hooked up to the front gates of the Garrison. “Here with Lance McClain on account of the Xena Rescue Mission, scheduled to depart in one hour.” Several months ago Pidge had installed a voice recognition AI-run security system that supposedly identified your voice and, depending on the results, would permit your entrance.

Supposedly.

“Voice recognized,” the system stated in an automated, tinny voice. “𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘒𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘦 and 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘤𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 are registered in the system. Access to Galaxy Garrison granted.”

The gates retracted, allowing the pair to pass through into the busy inner circle of the Garrison. Newly built ships and vehicles for the next generation of astro-exploration were scattered throughout the lawn. Far back, behind the buildings and dorms, the IGF-Atlas rested in neutral position, recharging for its next mission. Despite the early hour, a handful of students and teachers alike were attempting various flight simulators, while others were busy building or repairing the vehicles. In the past year, the Garrison had become a world-renowned hub for intergalactic activity, the headquarters of the Galactic Coalition, a base for the Blade of Marmora, and even alien races were trained there. But to Keith and the other paladins, it was still home.

They approached the main entrance, nodding to the security guards standing outside, and entered the nearly-empty central halls. A short walk took them to the launching grounds, where they could make out five familiar figures standing next to a large 7, clearly laughing about something the tallest person had said.  
“Oh hey, I think I see them!” the shortest one cried, and waved her arms. Keith and Lance grinned, then jogged over to meet Shiro, Curtis, Coran, Pidge and Matt.  
“Delightful dawn!” Coran said, bounding forward to wring both of their hands in his usual exuberant manner. “Are you two prepared for a harrowing rescue mission? Just like the old days, eh? Good thing I’ve stayed in tip-top shape!”

“Morning, Keith, Lance!” Shiro said, grinning, while Matt saluted them both. “Heard there was a little time mishap, but everything turned out okay, yeah?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t 𝘮𝘺 fault,” Keith contemned. “Pidge sent me the wrong time.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you told me to pick Lance up at 7 in the morning. Any later and you’d ‘blast me off without a suit.’”

“Well 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 part sounds familiar, but I don’t recall saying seven. Oh well, you’re here now,” Pidge replied dismissively. “Are you guys ready for the overview?”

“You already told me this about ten times,” Lance reminded her.

“Yeah, but you have a tendency to forget crucial details at the last moment,” she said, while Keith smirked. “So I’ll go over the plan again, to refresh everyone’s memories. Coran, Lance and Keith will depart in-” Pidge paused, checked her watch, and continued, “-forty nine minutes. I’ve embedded a synthetic tracker into the engine, so we’ll be able to regulate your astral coordinated with relative ease, and, using the recently developed supersonic alien alpha rays technology-”

“Wait,” Curtis interrupted, eyes wide. “You were able to incorporate the Altean alpha rays into the tracking system 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 the circuit inlets overheating?”

“Oh yeah,” Pidge said proudly. “Matt and I did some experimenting about one phoeb ago, and we through several tests involving the alpha molecules, we were able to discern that if you rearrange the Altean ones to fit a pre-recorded equalization from the MFE jets, the alpha rays won’t overheat! That way, we’re basically able to get a real-time holographic projection so that we can better oversee their progress.”

“Wow,” Curtis said, impressed. “That’s amazing, Pidge. Which pre-recorded equalization did you use? ‘Cause I’m thinking that maybe we could fuse that technology with the one on the Atlas, but I’m not sure how all the subatomic particles would work because it’s powered by the Altean crystal.”

“Hmm, you have a good point,” Pidge acknowledged. She frowned, then proceeded, “Maybe if we were able to harness the energy crystal and convert 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 into-”

“Pidge.”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry, got sidetracked there. Anyway, what I was saying is that basically, we upgraded the system so that we have the capability of three-dimensional tracking from the view of your ship! Which is pretty cool,” she added smugly. “The flight to Xena should take about seventeen hours, so you’ll arrive at approximately two in the morning, our time. That leaves you seven hours of rest, and after that, you’ll start working. Coran will establish connections and charm the leaders of the area. Keith and Lance will distribute medical supplies and sustenance for the nearby people. Because your knowledge surrounding the technicalities of the A.C.S.Q.B.S’s-”

“The 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?”

“-anitcarbon stabilizing quintessence based systems, Keith, I explained this already- but because your knowledge regarding those is inferior, the native Xenians will assemble and repair it themselves,” Pidge explained. “You don’t have to do any of the engineering; instead let your primary focus be on the restoration of the local population.”

“Ah, now that has a nice ring to it!” Coran . “Bit of a flash from the past, eh?”

Pidge grinned. “Is everyone clear on their respective jobs?”

“Yeah, but how long are we gonna stay there?”

“That depends entirely on how productive you are. It could only be forty-eight vargas, or it could take up to a movement. My estimate though, is roughly four quintants.”  
“Are you guys good?” Shiro asked. “You have all the supplies and additional food, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the emergency telecommunicators?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t forget the trace gas analyzer,” Curtis chimed in. “Those can save your life.”

“We 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.”

“And the heat-resistant safety tethers,” Shiro added in afterthought. “Temperatures on Xena can reach up to 500 degrees, and-”

“WE KNOW, SHIRO!” Keith and Lance shouted simultaneously.

“Come to think of it, you should probably bring along some diapers and a playpen just in case,” Pidge contributed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Do tell us if you need me to drag out any of the car seats,” Matt simpered. “They’re meant for actual cars, but I’m sure we can adjust the sizes. They come with little seat belts and everything so Coran can strap you if you throw a tantrum.”

“At least we get to save a moon from detonation instead of being trapped in a conference hall with an old Arusian rambling about telethrusters for five days,” Keith retorted, while Lance nodded vigorously.

Pidge opened her mouth furiously- how 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 he insult her science!- but Shiro interrupted before she could make a vehement retort. “First of all, Keith, there’s no such thing as a ‘telethruster.’ Second, we all just want to make sure that you’re properly prepared. There have been multiple accounts of rogue attacks from pirates in the nearby galaxies. It’s important to take all the conventional precautions.”

“Don’t worry, Shiro, the pirates won’t attack their ship if there are 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘴 on board,” Pidge said in a falsely endearing tone.

“All right guys, that’s enough,” Shiro commanded, once again fulfilling his role as the mediator. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥. “Pidge, head to Communications and check the status of the incoming flights.”

“Fine,” she sighed, and walked back into the building with a glare on her face, still sour about Lance’s diss on the engineering intelligence convention.

“Coran, can you and Matt load the remaining medical supplies on board?” Shiro turned to the two remaining boys and said, “Lance and Keith, suit up.” They nodded, grabbed two bundles of cloth, and headed towards the changing room, leaving Curtis and Shiro alone. The latter sighed but said nothing.

“Are you okay?” Curtis asked, placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder. “You seem a little off.”

Shiro smiled at Curtis’s light touch. “I’m okay. Just a little worried. We’ve already lost two innocent ships to unprompted pirate assaults this month. I don’t want that to happen to them today, especially Lance. He’s already going through a lot.”

“Losing someone is hard, but Lance will come around,” Curtis assured him. “You did,” he added, a smile bright on his face. “And besides, they both quite literally helped to save the universe- twice! I think they’ll be all right.”

Shiro’s smile broadened and leaned in to kiss Curtis, because 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 they had a moment alone together, and he closed his eyes and-

“Aw, how romantic,” Matt commented, with an armful of compressed food goo for the mission. “And by all means, do continue.”

“Indeed! Pretend we’re not here!” Coran added cheerfully.

Shiro, redder than the famed lion, opened his mouth to say something, but Curtis just chuckled and planted a kiss on his cheek anyway, earning a collective “𝘢𝘸𝘸𝘸𝘸,” from the general vicinity.

“The supplies are up and loaded!” Matt announced. “There’s enough for the two-day round trip and then some.”

“Communications are go,” Pidge confirmed through the communication deck. “Holographic projections are registered and fully functioning. The ship is at maximum charge and should be ready for launch any time!”

“Thanks, Pidge,” Shiro said. “They should be done in a minute.”

As if on cue, Keith, followed by a very reluctant Lance, re-entered the launch room, fully clad in his regular Blade of Marmora suit. Lance, too, was dressed in the customary dark armor, although he was very unenthusiastic about it all. He was already anxious about doing this, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩’𝘴 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴?

“This is too small,” he grumbled, pinching at the compact material. “I can barely move my body! Keith, how did you wear this?”

“You’ll be fine,” Keith said indifferently. “You can adjust it when we get on board.”

“No, I’m doing it now, I can’t walk- 𝘢𝘩𝘩!” Lance yelped, and tugged at the fabric in between his legs. “It’s 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 snug down there! It’s so tight that I can’t even feel my-”

“LANCE!”

“...particle barrier?” Matt supplied, winking.

“𝘔𝘈𝘛𝘛!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just trying to say that it’s really tight,” he said, wiggling around in an attempt to loosen the suit. “And it’s so 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬,” he added, glancing down. “I feel like a ninja or something.”

“Like a 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘳r?”

“No, like a dumb human ninja in armor that was clearly made for the Galra. Although this glowing chestplate is kind of cool.”

“But the best part is the hood,” Keith said affirmingly. “And the disappearing mask. And the boots are cool too; the jets are on the outside of the lower calf which makes flying much easier.” He wouldn’t voice it aloud, but Keith really did enjoy showing off the enigmatic Blade of Marmora armor to someone else. He had never gotten the opportunity to do such a thing before, seeing as many still held bitter grudges against the Galra and new recruits were limited.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦, he supposed. Even though Kolivan would surely scold him later for allowing a human to prance around in such rare and tenacious armor.

“Are we set, then?” Keith asked Shiro, tucking away his luxite blade.

“All ready,” Shiro confirmed.

“Engines are engaged!” Pidge announced from above. The ship, not too dissimilar from an MFE in shape, rumbled to life. It was a newer model that combined the spacious cockpit and quarters of older Altean pods with the agile modern controls of the swift MFE’s.

“Looks like me old pod from the Castle of Lions!” Coran said happily, patting the silver sides of the sleek vehicle. “Well boys, it’s time to head off! Say your farewells then meet me inside!” With that, he bounded off into the ship, humming to himself.

“Well, this is it, then,” Shiro said. He broke into a smile and pulled Lance and Keith into a tight hug, both of whom groaned in exasperation, but wrapped an arm around him anyway. “See you in a week. Good luck out there, you two,” he said, letting them go. “I know you’ll do great, but just remember everything Pidge said. Stay with Coran. Don’t forget to charge the ship when you land.”

“Come on on Shiro! Who do you think you’re dealing with- a bunch of 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘶𝘳𝘴?” Lance asked pretentiously, while Shiro chuckled. Despite his unease about the whole ordeal, Lance couldn’t help but toss just a little levity into the conversation. It had been his way of coping since he was too small to remember.

“No, but even the defenders of the universe can run into a bit of trouble. Just be careful,” Shiro replied. “And Lance,” he added in a softer voice. “Thanks for stepping up, buddy.”

“It’s no problem,” Lance said, trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling in his stomach. “Just glad to help.”

“Thanks, guys,” Keith said, shaking Curtis’s hand and saluting Matt in farewell. “We’ll see you in a movement.” He followed Coran aboard the ship, but Lance hesitated.

“C’mon, Lance, we’re ready to launch,” Keith called.

Lance glanced at Shiro, who nodded affirmatively. “Go. Be great.” Lance inhaled, savoring the fresh sweetness of Earth’s air one final time, then, still adjusting Keith’s old suit, boarded the ship.

“See you, space explorers.”

With a hiss, the door slid shut, and just like that, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. Lance stumbled across the ground, nearly tripping on the tools for the A.C.S.Q.B.S’s, until he collapsed in a seat behind Coran, who was copilot.

“All ready to blast off, Lance?” he asked spiritedly. “Hold on to your britches! This ship is smaller than the Atlas, so it’ll be a bit of a jerky launch!”

“Initiating boosters… 𝘯𝘰𝘸.” The vehicle hummed to life, faltered for the briefest moment, then shot into the sky with astonishing speed rivaled only by the Lions of Voltron. The Garrison and surrounding landscape diminished until he could see the entirety of North America and then the cloudy, azure globe that he called home, flickering with the distant lights of millions of cities. Lance barely had time to appreciate the view before suddenly Venus was on their immediate right and they were caught in a thick yellow mist.

“Coran, calibrate engines and begin hyper-space jump sequence,” Keith ordered, as the buzzing engines grew in volume.

“Roger that, number four!”

“Gonna have to update that list, Coran,” he said loudly over the roar of the engines. “I’m taller than Lance now.”

“Punch it, number three!”

Lance opened his mouth to argue, but at that second, the ship began the hyper-space jump and he was thrown back in his seat. A multitude of sublime colors and lights whizzed past the windows, leaving bright streaks in Lance’s eyesight. The entire ship trembled with the sheer amount of pure energy from breaking the light barrier. Lance’s head ached as he clutched the pressed juniberry in his pocket with unnecessary vigor. He shut his eyes and attempted to suppress the nausea that was threatening to erupt from the pit of his stomach, but still the vehicle throbbed.

𝘐𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯. 𝘐𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯. 𝘐𝘵’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯, he told himself. But even through his closed eyelids, Lance could tell that neither the flying lights outside or quaking of the ship did not come to an end. He was convinced that this hyper-space jump would never end, until, 𝘉𝘈𝘔! The volitant, glowing lights vanished, Lance’s brain stopped rattling in his head, and he could barely make out Coran complimenting Keith on what was apparently a “smooth” jump.

Lance barely had time to mutter “𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬,” before promptly vomiting into a nearby bucket, scoring a disgusted groan from both Coran and Keith. Lance wiped his face and shuddered, head racing. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮?

“Lance, m’boy, looks like you’ve got a case of the ol’ space-jump-wheezies,” Coran diagnosed. He frowned, rifled through a small compartment near the control panel, and dug out a tiny jar of what appeared to be orange grapes. “Here, these ought to do the trick: Arusian walnut berries! I traded them in from the Space Mall last phoeb, so they’re a wee bit old,” he explained enthusiastically, shoving them into Lance’s hands. “But they should still work like a charm!”

“Oh, uh… thanks.”

“All right guys, we’re in the center of the Aphelion Nebula, just outside the Pashipean System,” Keith reported. “We’ll have to recharge for about three hours before making our final jump. Apart from an asteroid field near Kalyke that we should approach in an hour, it should be quieter from here on out.” He paused and shot a glance (𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯?) at the boy behind him.“Lance, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, face flushed with embarrassment. Vomiting in space was Hunk’s job, not his! He had 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 in a giant spaceship for a year, so why did a brief light jump make him sick? A viable sense of shame crawled up his gut, and stayed there. Lance felt gross and pathetic when he should be feeling excited and merry. But still, he just couldn’t shake the feeling of utter 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥. The planets, stars, and even the ship itself reminded him of irredeemable times that were long gone, of times that could have been spent with Allura if only he wasn’t so-

𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘪𝘵, he commanded himself. He knew where this was going and this time, he would not let it happen. Spasmodic reminiscences of traumatic events were the last thing he needed now, especially after puking into a bucket that they were supposed to feed Alteans with.

No, Lance was the smooth, amorous Red Paladin that feared nothing. He had probably just eaten a bad strawberry for breakfast, because there was no correlation whatsoever between his upset stomach and conspicuous fears of space, or more specifically, losing someone out there.

...Right?

To divert his unsettling thoughts, he forced his gaze out the broad windows, and that was when his jaw dropped. They appeared to be in the center of a thick, swirling cloud of that rainbow cotton candy he had eaten on Clear Day. Only these clouds were made of space dust and ionized gases and remains of a supernova. It was chaotic, striking, lacy, and shone with a faint iridescence. The nebula was utterly alluring in every aspect: from its boundless, slender edges to the very center: a compact cluster of twinkling stars where the heart of Aphelion rested. Wisps of magenta and tufts of cerulean sprinkled with stars enveloped their small ship. Hunk probably would have said it looked like a giant cupcake, but Lance thought it resembled more of a sunset. A space sunset.

“The Aphelion sure is looking ravishing tonight, eh boys?” Coran asked, putting his feet up on the dashboard and leaning back. “Ah, reminds me of when Alfor and I visited the Aoede Galaxy, which is known for its splendid nebulae displays! One of them was brown and round and looked exactly like-”

“Okay, Coran, we get,” Keith interjected, preventing what surely would have been a graphic description of a rather distasteful nebula. He too, swiveled around in his seat to face Coran and Lance. “Tell us about something else.”

“Oh, with great pleasure!” Coran agreed, beaming. He plucked at his moustache before launching an entire complicated narrative about his grandfather, Hieronymus Wimbelton’s, quest for a Clanmurel hide. According to Coran, Hieronymus “traveled across all of existence, in between the reality rifts,” until he found the only remaining living Clanmurel on a long-forgotten star in the Adrastean Galaxy.

“Did he catch it?” Keith asked, fully immersed in Coran’s captivating story.

The latter sighed, and shook his head. “One of Hieronymus’s henchmen shot the Clanmurel. He mistook it for a rare Yelmore hybrid!”

“His crewmate 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 it?” Keith asked disbelievingly. “Yelmores don’t even 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 in Adrastea!”

“I know,” Coran replied gravely. “But just when he had given up hope, Hieronymus got a divine message from Bob, the all-powerful, all-knowing interdimensional being who judges the worthiness of great warriors-”

“He got a message from 𝘉𝘰𝘣? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 Bob?”

“Yes, Keith, now silence yourself and allow me to continue the story! Now, as you may recall, legends say that if you meet Bob and live to tell the tale, you are destined for greatness. And-”

“Hieronymus 𝘮𝘦𝘵 Bob?” Keith interrupted again, eyes wide. “He must have been a legend-”

“NUMBER THREE!” Coran shouted, tugging his mustache with surprising ferocity. “If you continue to make such boorish interruptions, I shall have to discontinue the narrative!”

“Sorry. It’s just interesting.”

“Hmph. As I was 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, after Hieronymus received the message from Bob-”

“Wait but what did it say?” Lance impeded, joining in on the fun. “You never told us what Bob’s message was.”

“I WAS GETTING TO THAT PART!” Coran squawked, eyes popping. “ONE MORE INTERRUPTION FROM YOU TWO AND I’LL LEAVE YOU ON XENA!”

“Fine!”

“Bob didn’t leave Hieronymus a message,” he explained disparagingly. “‘Tis not the way of interdimensional beings! Nay, Bob used his otherworldly powers to possess a Duflax which lead my grandfather to 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 reality rift, where he defied ALL laws of physics, reached into the PAST, and pulled out…” Coran paused for a suspenseful effect, then finished in a dramatic voice: “A clanmurel the size of a tusk-rat!” Both Keith and Lance opened their mouths, most likely to question the validity of this ludicrous tale, but closed it out of fear for their lives.

“Once Hieronymus had captured this gargantuan beast, he traveled across the universe and back to Altea, where they used its hide to make the softest, spiffiest blanket you’ve ever seen! And after that, they used the rest of the creature to make Clanmurel soup!” Coran concluded, clapping his hands together.

“Wait, Hieronymus traveled across the universe, met Bob, went in between 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, transcended space and time itself just to have a fluffy blanket?” Lance asked incredulously.

“And the soup!” Coran added cheerfully. “Don’t forget the soup! Hieronymus said it was the tastiest soup he had ever eaten!”

“That’s the weirdest story I’ve ever heard,” Lance said, shaking his head, and leaned back into the cushioned seat.

“Really? Then you must not have heard Curtis’s story about the time that the Atlas’s plumbing system stopped working,” Keith said dryly, folding his arms.  
“The Atlas’s plumbing system stopped working?” Lance said, astonished. His face broke out into a grin, the first one since the flight started an hour ago. “Tell me!”

Coran shook his head. “‘Twas a horrible day.”

“Yeah, from what Curtis said, it was after they had transformed for the first time and everything took about five vargas to come back online,” Keith recalled. “And obviously the sinks and toilets weren’t working, but nobody knew that so Griffin went to the bathroom, and he came out a minute later yelling about how someone had-”

“All right, number three, spare him the yecchy details!”

“𝘐'𝘮 number three! Keith is 𝘯𝘰𝘵 taller than me,” Lance said indignantly. “I grew at least two inches this year!”

“You mean two 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴?”

“No, I mean two inches!” he fumed.

“Well there’s only one way to find out!” Coran announced, tugging his mustache again. “Boys! Stand back to back!” They obliged; Lance leapt to his feet, and Keith rose with great apathy.

“Stand closer!” Coran commanded, shoving the two into one another with such vigor that their heads bounced together, amassing a yelp of pain from Keith.

“OW!”

“Sorry, sorry! Just got to make sure that it’s ship-shape here. Keith, stop slouching! Lance, get off your tippy-toes! Stand 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, I can’t see if you’re a foot apart! CLOSER! All right, better. Hmm,” Coran mused. He paused, and Lance waited with bated breath. “Well, I’ll be darned! Lance, m’boy, you 𝘢𝘳𝘦 taller than Keith!”

“HA! I KNEW IT!” Lance shouted, fisting the air. “I 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 you that I was taller.” He sat back down, a smug grin on his face.

To be fair, Keith knew it, too.

But being proven wrong made Lance smile a real, genuine smile, which was something of a scarcity since Allura had gone, and besides, Keith liked it when he smiled. It was crooked, a little mischievous, faintly egologistical, and above all, radiated pure happiness.

All of which was irrelevant, of course.

So all Keith said was, “Say whatever you gotta say to make yourself feel better.”

“Whatever, 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘵. Besides, number four isn’t 𝘴𝘰 bad,” Lance acknowledged. “At least you’re taller than Pidge.”

“Yeah well, who isn’t taller than Pidge?”

“Kaltenecker isn’t!” Coran chirped.

“Kaltenecker is a 𝘤𝘰𝘸.”

“Still counts!”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Lance smiled once more as Keith and Coran kept at it with their pointless banter (if you were confined in a small ship for hours on end, you would do the same). Initially, he had been quite tentative, and admittedly, a bit 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 of coming along, but after seeing his old crewmates and friends, Lance was overwhelmed with a comforting sense of nostalgia: a welcomed sensation in this time.

Because at the end of the night- even with his too-small Blades armor, still-queasy stomach, and ominous worries lurking in the depths of his mind- Lance was still the scrawny Earthling who liked talking and racing and garlic knots and most of all, friends.

Coran was still the buoyant, foppish advisor and engineer with one hell of a mustache who somehow always managed to remain in good spirits.

And Keith was still the independent, brusque team leader, who, despite previous claims, Lance 𝘥𝘪𝘥 hold in high regard, and some might say, 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥. Even if Keith's wardrobe was limited to three colors and he probably should have gotten a haircut decaphoebs ago and was oftentimes rude and, 𝘰𝘩, the list went on and on. But they were friends, and that was what mattered.

So perhaps Lance 𝘸𝘢𝘴 right.

Just not in the way he expected.

__________

Also here’s an interesting concept that I've accepted as canon:

Lance’s Altean marks light up when he’s either thinking about Allura, or if he feels a strong sense of love toward someone.

Allura didn’t leave them to remind Lance of 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

Allura left them on the one she loved the most in hopes that he would recognize their luminescent pattern and pick up the idea that it was okay to love again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so obviously, I'm not an astrophysicist like darcy lewis (although that would be awesome) so I'm sorry if there is any false information. wikipedia and nasa.org can only get you so far.
> 
> todo, if you read this, thank you for the word "ravishing." :)


End file.
